{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_55458/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_55458","id":"gutenberg_55458","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55458","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Poetry","English poetry -- 19th century"],"text":"The\n  Curse of Kehama:\n  by\n  Robert Southey.\n\n\n  \u039a\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9, \u03c9\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b1 \u03b1\u03bb\u03b5\u03ba\u03c4\u03c1\u03c5\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03bf\u03c4\u03c4\u03b1, \u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd \u03b1\u03b5\u03b9, \u03bf\u03c8\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b5\u03bd \u03b5\u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03b7\u03be\u03b1\u03bd\n  \u03b5\u03b3\u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03b9\u03c3\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9.\n                     \u0391\u03c0\u03bf\u03c6\u03b8. \u0391\u03bd\u03b5\u03ba. \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u0393\u03c5\u03bb\u03b9\u03b5\u03bb. \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u039c\u03b7\u03c4.\n\n  CURSES ARE LIKE YOUNG CHICKEN, THEY ALWAYS COME HOME TO ROOST.\n\n\n  THE THIRD EDITION.\n\n  _VOLUME THE FIRST._\n\n\n  LONDON:\n  PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND\n  BROWN, PATERNOSTER-ROW.\n  1812.\n\n\n\nTRANSCRIBER'S NOTES.\n\nThis book was originally digitized by Google and is intended for\npersonal, non-commercial use only.\n\nOriginal page numbers are given in curly brackets. Footnotes have been\nrelocated to the end of the book. Passages originally rendered in\nsmall-caps have been changed to all-caps in the text version of this\nwork.\n\nAlterations: [pp. 168, 191] Correct misspellings of Edward Moor's\nlast name; [p. 194] change \"battel\" to \"battle\"; and [p. 237] change\n\"Son and Moon\" to \"Sun and Moon\".\n\n\n\n  TO\n  THE AUTHOR OF GEBIR,\n  WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR,\n  THIS POEM IS INSCRIBED,\n  BY\n  ROBERT SOUTHEY.\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\nIN the religion of the Hindoos, which of all false religions is the\nmost monstrous in its fables, and the most fatal in its effects, there\nis one remarkable peculiarity. Prayers, penances, and sacrifices, are\nsupposed to possess an inherent and actual value, in no degree\ndepending upon the disposition or motive of the person who performs\nthem. They are drafts upon Heaven, for which the Gods cannot refuse\npayment. The worst men, bent upon the worst designs, have in this\nmanner obtained power which has made them formidable to the Supreme\nDeities themselves, and rendered an _Avatar_, or Incarnation of\nVeeshnoo the Preserver, necessary. This belief is the foundation of\nthe following Poem. The story is original; but, in all its parts,\nconsistent with the superstition upon which it is built; and however\nstartling the fictions may appear, they might almost be called\ncredible when compared with the genuine tales of Hindoo mythology.\n\nNo figures can be imagined more anti-picturesque, and less poetical,\nthan the mythological personages of the Bramins. This deformity was\neasily kept out of sight:--their hundred hands are but a clumsy\npersonification of power; their numerous heads only a gross image of\ndivinity, \"whose countenance,\" as the Bhagvat-Geeta expresses it, \"is\nturned on every side.\" To the other obvious objection, that the religion\nof Hindostan is not generally known enough to supply fit machinery for\nan English poem, I can only answer, that, if every allusion to it\nthroughout the work is not sufficiently self-explained to render the\npassage intelligible, there is a want of skill in the poet. Even those\nreaders who should be wholly unacquainted with the writings of our\nlearned Orientalists, will find all the preliminary knowledge that can\nbe needful, in the brief explanation of mythological names prefixed to\nthe Poem.\n\n\n\n  CONTENTS\n  TO\n  VOLUME FIRST.\n\n  1. The Funeral\n  2. The Curse\n  3. The Recovery\n  4. The Departure\n  5. The Separation\n  6. Casyapa\n  7. The Swerga\n  8. The Sacrifice\n  9. The Home Scene\n  10. Mount Meru\n  11. The Enchantress\n  12. The Sacrifice Completed\n\n  Notes\n  Footnotes\n\n\n\n  \u03a3\u03c4\u03b7\u03c3\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5 \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u03a0\u03c1\u03c9\u03c4\u03b7\u03b1 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03c5\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd, \u03bf\u03c6\u03c1\u03b1 \u03c6\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03b7\n  \u03a0\u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u03b9\u03b4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b5\u03c7\u03c9\u03bd, \u03bf\u03c4\u03b9 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd \u03c5\u03bc\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03c3\u03c3\u03c9.\n                               \u039d\u03bf\u03bd. \u0394\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd.\n\n  For I will for no man's pleasure\n  Change a syllable or measure;\n  Pedants shall not tie my strains\n  To our antique poets' veins;\n  Being born as free as these,\n  I will sing as I shall please.\n                   George Wither.\n\n\n\nMYTHOLOGICAL NAMES.\n\nBRAMA, the Creator.\n\nVEESHNOO, the Preserver.\n\nSEEVA, the Destroyer.\n\nThese form the Trimourtee, or Trinity, as it has been called, of the\nBramins. The allegory is obvious, but it has been made for the\nTrimourtee, not the Trimourtee for the allegory; and these Deities are\nregarded by the people as three distinct and personal Gods. The two\nlatter have at this day their hostile sects of worshippers; that of\nSeeva is the most numerous; and in this Poem, Seeva is represented as\nSupreme among the Gods. This is the same God whose name is variously\nwritten Seeb, Sieven and Siva, Chiven by the French, Xiven by the\nPortugueze, and whom European writers sometimes denominate Eswara,\nIswaren, Mahadeo, Mahadeva, Rutren,--according to which of his\nthousand and eight names prevailed in the country where they obtained\ntheir Information.\n\nINDRA, God of the Elements.\n\nThe SWERGA, his Paradise,--one of the Hindoo heavens.\n\nYAMEN, Lord of Hell, and Judge of the Dead.\n\nPADALON, Hell,--under the Earth, and, like the Earth, of an octagon\nshape; its eight gates are guarded by as many Gods.\n\nMARRIATALY, the Goddess who is chiefly worshipped by the lower casts.\n\nPOLLEAR, or Ganesa,--the Protector of Travellers. His statues are\nplaced in the highways, and sometimes in a small lonely sanctuary, in\nthe streets and in the fields.\n\nCASYAPA, the Father of the Immortals.\n\nDEVETAS, The Inferior Deities.\n\nSURAS, Good Spirits.\n\nASURAS, Evil Spirits, or Devils.\n\nGLENDOVEERS, the most beautiful of the Good Spirits, the Grindouvers\nof Sonnerat.\n\n\n\nTHE CURSE OF KEHAMA.\n\n {1}\n\n I.\n THE FUNERAL.\n\n 1.\n Midnight, and yet no eye\n Through all the Imperial City clos'd in sleep!\n Behold her streets a-blaze\n With light that seems to kindle the red sky,\n Her myriads swarming through the crowded ways!\n Master and slave, old age and infancy,\n All, all abroad to gaze;\n House-top and balcony\n Clustered with women, who throw back their veils,\n With unimpeded and insatiate sight\n To view the funeral pomp which passes by,\n {2}\n As if the mournful rite\n Were but to them a scene of joyance and delight.\n\n 2.\n Vainly, ye blessed twinklers of the night,\n Your feeble beams ye shed,\n Quench'd in the unnatural light which might out-stare\n Even the broad eye of day;\n And thou from thy celestial way\n Pourest, O Moon, an ineffectual ray!\n For lo! ten thousand torches flame and flare\n Upon the midnight air,\n Blotting the lights of heaven\n With one portentous glare.\n Behold the fragrant smoke in many a fold,\n Ascending floats along the fiery sky,\n And hangeth visible on high,\n A dark and waving canopy.\n\n 3.\n Hark! 'tis the funeral trumpet's breath!\n 'Tis the dirge of death!\n At once ten thousand drums begin,\n With one long thunder-peal the ear assailing;\n {3}\n Ten thousand voices then join in,\n And with one deep and general din\n Pour their wild wailing.\n The song of praise is drown'd\n Amid that deafening sound;\n You hear no more the trumpet's tone,\n You hear no more the mourner's moan,\n Though the trumpet's breath, and the dirge of death,\n Mingle and swell the funeral yell.\n But rising over all in one acclaim\n Is heard the echoed and re-echoed name,\n From all that countless rout:\n Arvalan! Arvalan!\n Arvalan! Arvalan!\n Ten times ten thousand voices in one shout\n Call Arvalan! The overpowering sound\n From house to house repeated rings about,\n From tower to tower rolls round.\n\n 4.\n The death-procession moves along;\n Their bald heads shining to the torches' ray,\n The Bramins lead the way,\n Chaunting the funeral song.\n {4}\n And now at once they shout\n Arvalan! Arvalan!\n With quick rebound of sound,\n All in accordant cry,\n Arvalan! Arvalan!\n The universal multitude reply.\n In vain ye thunder on his ear the name!\n Would ye awake the dead?\n Borne upright in his palankeen,\n There Arvalan is seen!\n A glow is on his face, . . . a lively red;\n 'Tis but the crimson canopy\n Which o'er his cheek the reddening shade hath shed.\n He moves, . . . he nods his head; . . .\n But the motion comes from the bearers' tread,\n As the body, borne aloft in state,\n Sways with the impulse of its own dead weight.\n\n 5.\n Close following his dead son, Kehama came,\n Nor joining in the ritual song,\n Nor calling the dear name;\n With head deprest and funeral vest,\n And arms enfolded on his breast,\n {5}\n Silent and lost in thought he moves along.\n King of the world, his slaves unenvying now\n Behold their wretched Lord; rejoiced they see\n The mighty Rajah's misery;\n For nature in his pride hath dealt the blow,\n And taught the master of mankind to know\n Even he himself is man, and not exempt from woe.\n\n 6.\n O sight of grief! the wives of Arvalan,\n Young Azla, young Nealliny, are seen!\n Their widow-robes of white,\n With gold and jewels bright,\n Each like an Eastern queen.\n Woe! woe! around their palankeen,\n As on a bridal day,\n With symphony, and dance, and song,\n Their kindred and their friends come on, . . .\n The dance of sacrifice! the funeral song!\n And next the victim slaves in long array,\n Richly bedight to grace the fatal day,\n Move onward to their death;\n The clarions' stirring breath\n Lifts their thin robes in every flowing fold,\n {6}\n And swells the woven gold,\n That on the agitated air\n Trembles, and glitters to the torches' glare.\n\n 7.\n A man and maid of aspect wan and wild,\n Then, side by side, by bowmen guarded, came.\n O wretched father! O unhappy child!\n Them were all eyes of all the throng exploring; . . .\n Is this the daring man\n Who raised his fatal hand at Arvalan?\n Is this the wretch condemned to feel\n Kehama's dreadful wrath?\n Them were all hearts of all the throng deploring,\n For not in that innumerable throng\n Was one who lov'd the dead; for who could know\n What aggravated wrong\n Provok'd the desperate blow!\n Far, far behind, beyond all reach of sight,\n In ordered files the torches flow along,\n One ever-lengthening line of gliding light:\n Far . . . far behind,\n Rolls on the undistinguishable clamour,\n Of horn, and trump, and tambour;\n {7}\n Incessant at the roar\n Of streams which down the wintry mountain pour,\n And louder than the dread commotion\n Of stormy billows on a rocky shore,\n When the winds rage over the wares,\n And Ocean to the Tempest raves.\n\n 8.\n And now toward the bank they go,\n Where, winding on their way below,\n Deep and strong the waters flow.\n Here doth the funeral pile appear\n With myrrh and ambergris bestrew'd,\n And built of precious sandal wood.\n They cease their music and their outcry here;\n Gently they rest the bier:\n They wet the face of Arvalan,\n No sign of life the sprinkled drops excite.\n They feel his breast, . . . no motion there;\n They feel his lips, . . . no breath;\n For not with feeble, nor with erring hand,\n The stern avenger dealt the blow of death.\n Then with a doubling peal and deeper blast,\n The tambours and the trumpets sound on high,\n {8}\n And with a last and loudest cry\n They call on Arvalan.\n\n 9.\n Woe! woe! for Azla takes her seat\n Upon the funeral pile!\n Calmly she took her seat,\n Calmly the whole terrific pomp survey'd;\n As on her lap the while\n The lifeless head of Arvalan was laid.\n Woe! woe! Nealliny,\n The young Nealliny!\n They strip her ornaments away,\n Bracelet and anklet, ring, and chain, and zone;\n Around her neck they leave\n The marriage knot alone, . . .\n That marriage band, which when\n Yon waning moon was young,\n Around her virgin neck\n With bridal joy was hung.\n Then with white flowers, the coronal of death,\n Her jetty locks they crown.\n O sight of misery!\n Yon cannot hear her cries, . . . all other sound\n {9}\n In that wild dissonance is drown'd; . . .\n But in her face you see\n The supplication and the agony, . . .\n See in her swelling throat the desperate strength\n That with vain effort struggles yet for life;\n Her arms contracted now in fruitless strife,\n Now wildly at full length\n Towards the crowd in vain for pity spread, . . .\n They force her on, they bind her to the dead.\n\n 10.\n Then all around retire;\n Circling the pile, the ministring Bramins stand,\n Each lifting in his hand a torch on fire.\n Alone the Father of the dead advanced\n And lit the funeral pyre.\n\n 11.\n At once on every side\n The circling torches drop;\n At once on every side\n The fragrant oil is pour'd;\n At once on every side\n The rapid flames rush up.\n {10}\n Then hand in hand the victim band\n Roll in the dance around the funeral pyre;\n Their garments' flying folds\n Float inward to the fire.\n In drunken whirl they wheel around;\n One drops, . . . another plunges in;\n And still with overwhelming din\n The tambours and the trumpets sound;\n And clap of hand, and shouts, and cries,\n From all the multitude arise:\n While round and round, in giddy wheel,\n Intoxicate they roll and reel,\n Till one by one whirl'd in they fall,\n And the devouring flames have swallowed all.\n\n 12.\n Then all was still; the drums and clarions ceas'd;\n The multitude were hush'd in silent awe;\n Only the roaring of the flames was heard.\n\n\n\n II.\n THE CURSE.\n\n {11}\n\n 1.\n Alone towards the Table of the dead,\n Kehama mov'd; there on the altar-stone\n Honey and rice he spread,\n There with collected voice and painful tone\n He call'd upon his son.\n Lo! Arvalan appears.\n Only Kehama's powerful eye beheld\n The thin etherial spirit hovering nigh;\n Only the Rajah's ear\n Receiv'd his feeble breath.\n And is this all? the mournful spirit said,\n This all that thou canst give me after death?\n {12}\n This unavailing pomp,\n These empty pageantries that mock the dead!\n\n 2.\n In bitterness the Rajah heard,\n And groan'd, and smote his breast, and o'er his face\n Cowl'd the white mourning vest.\n\n ARVALAN.\n Art thou not powerful, . . . even like a God?\n And must I, through my years of wandering,\n Shivering and naked to the elements,\n In wretchedness await\n The hour of Yamen's wrath?\n I thought thou wouldst embody me anew.\n Undying as I am, . . .\n Yea, re-create me! . . . Father, is this all!\n This all! and thou Almighty!\n\n 3.\n But in that wrongful and upbraiding tone,\n Kehama found relief,\n For rising anger half supprest his grief.\n Reproach not me! he cried;\n {13}\n Had I not spell-secur'd thee from disease,\n Fire, sword, . . . all common accidents of man, . . .\n And thou! . . . fool, fool, . . . to perish by a stake!\n And by a peasant's arm! . . .\n Even now, when from reluctant Heaven\n Forcing new gifts and mightier attributes,\n So soon I should have quell'd the Death-God's power.\n\n 4.\n Waste not thy wrath on me, quoth Arvalan,\n It was my hour of folly! Fate prevail'd,\n Nor boots it to reproach me that I fell.\n I am in misery, Father! Other souls\n Predoom'd to Indra's Heaven, enjoy the dawn\n Of bliss: . . . to them the tempered elements\n Minister joy, genial delight the sun\n Sheds on their happy being, and the stars\n Effuse on them benignant influencies;\n And thus o'er earth and air they roam at will,\n And when the number of their days is full,\n Go fearlessly before the awful throne.\n But I, . . . all naked feeling and raw life, . . .\n What worse than this hath Yamen's hell in store?\n If ever thou didst love me, mercy, Father!\n {14}\n Save me, for thou canst save: . . . the Elements\n Know and obey thy voice.\n\n KEHAMA.\n The Elements\n Shall torture thee no more; even while I speak\n Already dost then feel their power is gone.\n Fear not! I cannot call again the past,\n Fate hath made that its own; but Fate shall yield\n To me the future; and thy doom be fix'd\n By mine, not Yamen's will. Meantime, all power\n Whereof thy feeble spirit can be made\n Participant, I give. Is there aught else\n To mitigate thy lot?\n\n ARVALAN.\n Only the sight of vengeance. Give me that!\n Vengeance, full, worthy vengeance! . . . not the stroke\n Of sodden punishment, . . . no agony\n That spends itself and leaves the wretch at rest,\n But lasting long revenge.\n\n KEHAMA.\n What, boy? is that cup sweet? then take thy fill!\n\n {15}\n\n 5.\n So as he spake, a glow of dreadful pride\n Inflam'd his cheek: with quick and angry stride\n He mov'd toward the pile,\n And rais'd his hand to hush the crowd, and cried\n Bring forth the murderer! At the Rajah's voice,\n Calmly, and like a man whom fear had stunn'd,\n Ladurlad came, obedient to the call.\n But Kailyal started at the sound,\n And gave a womanly shriek, and back she drew,\n And eagerly she roll'd her eyes around,\n As if to seek for aid, albeit she knew\n No aid could there be found.\n\n 6.\n It chanced that near her, on the river-brink,\n The sculptur'd form of Marriataly stood;\n It was an idol roughly hewn of wood,\n Artless, and poor, and rude.\n The Goddess of the poor was she;\n None else regarded her with piety.\n But when that holy image Kailyal view'd,\n To that she sprung, to that she clung,\n On her own goddess with close-clasping arms,\n {16}\n For life the maiden hung.\n They seiz'd the maid; with unrelenting grasp\n They bruis'd her tender limbs;\n She, nothing yielding, to this only hope\n Clings with the strength of frenzy and despair.\n She screams not now, she breathes not now,\n She sends not up one vow,\n She forms not in her soul one secret prayer,\n All thought, all feeling, and all powers' of life\n In the one effort centering. Wrathful they\n With tug and strain would force the maid away. . . .\n Didst thou, O Marriataly, see their strife?\n In pity didst thou see the suffering maid?\n Or was thine anger kindled, that rude hands\n Assail'd thy holy image? . . . for behold\n The holy image shakes!\n Irreverently bold, they deem the maid\n Relax'd her stubborn hold,\n And now with force redoubled drag their prey;\n And now the rooted idol to their sway\n Bends, . . . yields, . . . and now it falls. But then they scream,\n For lo! they feel the crumbling bank give way,\n And all are plunged into the stream.\n\n {17}\n\n 7.\n She hath escap'd my will, Kehama cried,\n She hath escap'd, . . . but thou art here,\n I have thee still,\n The worser criminal!\n And on Ladurlad, while he spake, severe\n He fix'd his dreadful frown.\n The strong reflection of the pile\n Lit his dark lineaments,\n Lit the protruded brow, the gathered front,\n The steady eye of wrath.\n\n 8.\n But while the fearful silence yet endur'd,\n Ladurlad rous'd his soul;\n Ere yet the voice of destiny\n Which trembled on the Rajah's lips was loos'd,\n Eager he interpos'd,\n As if despair had waken'd him to hope;\n Mercy! oh mercy! only in defence . . .\n Only instinctively, . . .\n Only to save my child, I smote the Prince.\n King of the world, be merciful!\n Crush me, . . . but torture not!\n\n {18}\n\n 9.\n The Man-Almighty deign'd him no reply,\n Still he stood silent; in no human mood\n Of mercy, in no hesitating thought\n Of right and justice. At the length he rais'd\n His brow yet unrelax'd, . . . his lips unclos'd,\n And utter'd from the heart,\n With the whole feeling of his soul enforced,\n The gather'd vengeance came.\n\n 10.\n I charm thy life\n From the weapons of strife,\n From stone and from wood,\n From fire and from flood,\n From the serpent's tooth,\n And the beasts of blood:\n From Sickness I charm thee,\n And Time shall not harm thee;\n But Earth, which is mine,\n Its fruits shall deny thee;\n And Water shall hear me,\n And know thee and fly thee;\n And the Winds shall not touch thee\n {19}\n When they pass by thee,\n And the Dews shall not wet thee,\n When they fall nigh thee:\n And thou shalt seek Death\n To release thee, in vain;\n Thou shalt live in thy pain,\n While Kehama shall reign,\n With a fire in thy heart,\n And a fire in thy brain;\n And sleep shall obey me,\n And visit thee never,\n And the Curse shall be on thee\n For ever and ever.\n\n 11.\n There where the Curse had stricken him,\n There stood the miserable man,\n There stood Ladurlad, with loose-hanging arms,\n And eyes of idiot wandering.\n Was it a dream? alas,\n He heard the river flow,\n He heard the crumbling of the pile,\n He heard the wind which shower'd\n The thin white ashes round.\n {20}\n There motionless he stood,\n As if he hop'd it were a dream,\n And fear'd to move, lest he should prove\n The actual misery;\n And still at times he met Kehama's eye,\n Kehama's eye that fasten'd on him still.\n\n\n\n III.\n THE RECOVERY.\n\n {21}\n\n 1.\n The Rajah turn'd toward the pile again,\n Loud rose the song of death from all the crowd;\n Their din the instruments begin,\n And once again join in\n With overwhelming sound.\n Ladurlad starts, . . . he looks around.\n What hast thou here in view,\n O wretched man, in this disastrous scene?\n The soldier train, the Bramins who renew\n Their ministry around the funeral pyre,\n The empty palankeens,\n The dimly-fading fire.\n {22}\n Where too is she whom most his heart held dear,\n His best-beloved Kailyal, where is she,\n The solace and the joy of many a year\n Of widowhood! is she then gone,\n And is he left all-utterly alone,\n To bear his blasting curse, and none\n To succour or deplore him?\n He staggers from the dreadful spot; the throng\n Give way in fear before him;\n Like one who carries pestilence about,\n Shuddering they shun him, where he moves along.\n And now he wanders on\n Beyond the noisy rout;\n He cannot fly and leave his curse behind,\n Yet doth he seem to find\n A comfort in the change of circumstance.\n Adown the shore he strays,\n Unknowing where his wretched feet may rest,\n But farthest from the fatal place is best.\n\n 2.\n By this in the orient sky appears the gleam\n Of day. Lo! what is yonder in the stream,\n Down the slow river floating slow,\n In distance indistinct and dimly seen?\n {23}\n The childless one with idle eye\n Followed its motion thoughtlessly;\n Idly he gaz'd, unknowing why,\n And half unconscious that he watch'd its way.\n Belike it is a tree\n Which some rude tempest, in its sudden sway,\n Tore from the rock, or from the hollow shore\n The undermining stream hath swept away.\n\n 3.\n But when anon outswelling by its side,\n A woman's robe he spied,\n Oh then Ladurlad started,\n As one, who in his grave\n Had heard an angel's call.\n Yea, Marriataly, then hast deign'd to save!\n Yea, Goddess! it is she,\n To thy dear image clinging senselessly,\n And thus in happy hour\n Upborne amid the wave\n By that preserving power.\n\n 4.\n Headlong in hope and in joy\n Ladurlad dash'd in the water.\n {24}\n The water knew Kehama's spell,\n The water shrunk before him.\n Blind to the miracle,\n He rushes to his daughter,\n And treads the river-depths in transport wild,\n And clasps and saves his child.\n\n 5.\n Upon the farther side a level shore\n Of sand was spread: thither Ladurlad bore\n His daughter, holding still with senseless hand\n The saving Goddess; there upon the sand\n He laid the livid maid,\n Rais'd up against his knees her drooping head;\n Bent to her lips, . . . her lips as pale as death, . . .\n If he might feel her breath,\n His own the while in hope and dread suspended;\n Chaf'd her cold breast, and ever and anon\n Let his hand rest upon her heart extended.\n\n 6.\n Soon did his touch perceive, or fancy there,\n The first faint motion of returning life.\n He chafes her feet, and lays them bare\n In the sun; and now again upon her breast\n {25}\n Lays his hot hand; and now her lips he prest,\n For now the stronger throb of life he knew:\n And her lips tremble too!\n The breath comes palpably,\n Her quivering lids unclose\n Feebly and feebly fell,\n Relapsing as it seem'd to dead repose.\n\n 7.\n So in her father's arms thus languidly,\n While over her with earnest gaze he hung,\n Silent and motionless she lay,\n And painfully and slowly writh'd at fits,\n At fits to short convulsive starts was stung.\n Till when the struggle and strong agony\n Had left her, quietly she lay repos'd:\n Her eyes now resting on Ladurlad's face,\n Relapsing now, and now again unclos'd.\n The look she fix'd upon his face, implies\n Nor thought nor feeling; senselessly she lies,\n Compos'd like one who sleeps with open eyes.\n\n 8.\n Long he leant over her,\n {26}\n In silence and in fear.\n Kailyal! . . . at length he cried in such a tone,\n As a poor mother ventures who draws near,\n With silent footstep, to her child's sick bed.\n My Father! cried the maid, and rais'd her head,\n Awakening then to life and thought, . . . thou here?\n For when his voice she heard,\n The dreadful past recurr'd,\n Which dimly, like a dream of pain,\n Till now with troubled sense confus'd her brain.\n\n 9.\n And hath he spar'd us then? she cried,\n Half rising as she spake,\n For hope and joy the sudden strength supplied;\n In mercy hath he curb'd his cruel will,\n That still thou livest? But as thus she said,\n Impatient of that look of hope, her sire\n Shook hastily his head;\n Oh! he hath laid a Curse upon my life,\n A clinging curse, quoth he;\n Hath sent a fire into my heart and brain,\n A burning fire, for ever there to be!\n The winds of Heaven must never breathe on me;\n {27}\n The rains and dews must never fall on me;\n Water must mock my thirst and shrink from me;\n The common earth must yield no fruit to me;\n Sleep, blessed Sleep! must never light on me;\n And Death, who comes to all, must fly from me;\n And never, never set Ladurlad free.\n\n 10.\n This is a dream! exclaim'd the incredulous maid,\n Yet in her voice the while a fear exprest,\n Which in her larger eye was manifest.\n This is a dream! she rose and laid her hand\n Upon her father's brow, to try the charm;\n He could not bear the pressure there; . . . he shrunk, . . .\n He warded off her arm,\n As though it were an enemy's blow, he smote\n His daughter's arm aside.\n Her eye glanced down, his mantle she espied\n And caught it up; . . . Oh misery! Kailyal cried,\n He bore me from the river-depths, and yet\n His garment is not wet!\n\n\n\n IV.\n THE DEPARTURE.\n\n {28}\n\n 1.\n Reclin'd beneath a Cocoa's feathery shade\n Ladurlad lies,\n And Kailyal on his lap her head hath laid,\n To hide her streaming eyes.\n The boatman, sailing on his easy way,\n With envious eye beheld them where they lay;\n For every herb and flower\n Was fresh and fragrant with the early dew;\n Sweet sung the birds in that delicious hour,\n And the cool gale of morning as it blew,\n Not yet subdued by day's increasing power,\n Ruffling the surface of the silvery stream,\n {29}\n Swept o'er the moisten'd sand, and rais'd no shower.\n Telling their tale of love,\n The boatman thought they lay\n At that lone hour, and who so blest as they!\n\n 2.\n But now the sun in heaven is high,\n The little songsters of the sky\n Sit silent in the sultry hour,\n They pant and palpitate with heat;\n Their bills are open languidly\n To catch the passing air;\n They hear it not, they feel it not,\n It murmurs not, it moves not.\n The boatman, as he looks to land,\n Admires what men so mad to linger there,\n For yonder Cocoa's shade behind them falls,\n A single spot upon the burning sand.\n\n 3.\n There all the morning was Ladurlad laid,\n Silent and motionless, like one at ease;\n There motionless upon her father's knees,\n Reclin'd the silent maid.\n {30}\n The man was still, pondering with steady mind,\n As if it were another's Curse,\n His own portentous lot;\n Scanning it o'er and o'er in busy thought,\n As though it were a last night's tale of woe,\n Before the cottage door,\n By some old beldame sung,\n While young and old assembled round,\n Listened, as if by witchery bound,\n In fearful pleasure to her wonderous tongue.\n\n 4.\n Musing so long he lay, that all things seem\n Unreal to his sense, even like a dream,\n A monstrous dream of things which could not be.\n That beating, burning brow, . . . why it was now\n The height of noon, and he was lying there\n In the broad sun, all bare!\n What if he felt no wind? the air was still,\n That was the general will\n Of nature, not his own peculiar doom;\n Yon rows of rice erect and silent stand,\n The shadow of the Cocoa's lightest plume\n Is steady on the sand.\n\n {31}\n\n 5.\n Is it indeed a dream? he rose to try,\n Impatient to the water-side he went,\n And down he bent,\n And in the stream he plung'd his hasty arm\n To break the visionary charm.\n With fearful eye and fearful heart,\n His daughter watch'd the event;\n She saw the start and shudder,\n She heard the in-drawn groan,\n For the Water knew Kehama's charm,\n The water shrunk before his arm.\n His dry hand mov'd about unmoisten'd there;\n As easily might that dry hand avail\n To stop the passing gale,\n Or grasp the impassive air.\n He is Almighty then!\n Exclaim'd the wretched man in his despair;\n Air knows him, Water knows him; Sleep\n His dreadful word will keep;\n Even in the grave there is no rest for me,\n Cut off from that last hope, . . . the wretches' joy;\n And Veeshnoo hath no power to save,\n Nor Seeva to destroy.\n\n {32}\n\n 6.\n Oh! wrong not them! quoth Kailyal,\n Wrong not the Heavenly Powers!\n Our hope is all in them: They are not blind!\n And lighter wrongs than ours,\n And lighter crimes than his,\n Have drawn the Incarnate down among mankind;\n Already have the Immortals heard our cries,\n And in the mercy of their righteousness\n Beheld us in the hour of our distress!\n She spake with streaming eyes,\n Where pious love and ardent feeling beam;\n And turning to the Image, threw\n Her grateful arms around it, . . . It was thou\n Who saved'st me from the stream!\n My Marriataly, it was thou!\n I had not else been here\n To share my Father's Curse,\n To suffer now, . . . and yet to thank thee thus!\n\n 7.\n Here then, the maiden cried, dear Father, here\n Raise our own Goddess, our divine Preserver!\n The mighty of the earth despise her rites,\n {33}\n She loves the poor who serve her.\n Set up her image here,\n With heart and voice the guardian Goddess bless,\n For jealously would she resent\n Neglect and thanklessness. . . .\n Set up her image here,\n And bless her for her aid with tongue and soul sincere.\n\n 8.\n So saying, on her knees the maid\n Began the pious toil.\n Soon their joint labour scoops the easy soil;\n They raise the image up with reverent hand,\n And round its rooted base they heap the sand.\n O Thou whom we adore,\n O Marriataly, thee do I implore,\n The virgin cried; my Goddess, pardon thou\n The unwilling wrong, that I no more,\n With dance and song,\n Can do thy daily service, as of yore!\n The flowers which last I wreath'd around thy brow,\n Are withering there; and never now\n Shall I at eve adore thee,\n And swimming round with arms outspread,\n {34}\n Poise the full pitcher on my head,\n In dextrous dance before thee;\n White underneath the reedy shed, at rest,\n My father sate the evening rites to view,\n And blest thy name, and blest\n His daughter too.\n\n 9.\n Then heaving from her heart a heavy sigh,\n O Goddess! from that happy home, cried she,\n The Almighty Man hath forced us!\n And homeward with the thought unconsciously\n She turn'd her dizzy eye. . . . But there on high,\n With many a dome, and pinnacle, and spire,\n The summits of, the Golden Palaces\n Blaz'd in the dark blue sky, aloft, like fire.\n Father, away! she cried, away!\n Why linger we so nigh?\n For not to him hath Nature given\n The thousand eyes of Deity,\n Always and every where with open sight,\n To persecute our flight!\n Away . . . away! she said,\n And took her father's hand, and like a child\n He followed where she led.\n\n\n\n V.\n THE SEPARATION.\n\n {35}\n\n 1.\n Evening comes on: arising from the stream,\n Homeward the tall flamingo wings his flight;\n And where he sails athwart the setting beam,\n His scarlet plumage glows with deeper light.\n The watchman, at the wish'd approach of night,\n Gladly forsakes the field, where he all day,\n To scare the winged plunderers from their prey,\n With shout and sling, on yonder clay-built height,\n Hath borne the sultry ray.\n Hark! at the Golden Palaces,\n The Bramin strikes the hour.\n For leagues and leagues around, the brazen sound\n {36}\n Rolls through the stillness of departing day,\n Like thunder far away.\n\n 2.\n Behold them wandering on their hopeless way,\n Unknowing where they stray,\n Yet sure where'er they stop to find no rest.\n The evening gale is blowing,\n It plays among the trees;\n Like plumes upon a warrior's crest,\n They see yon cocoas tossing to the breeze.\n Ladurlad views them with impatient mind,\n Impatiently he hears\n The gale of evening blowing,\n The sound of waters flowing,\n As if all sights and sounds combin'd\n To mock his irremediable woe:\n For not for him the blessed waters flow,\n For not for him the gales of evening blow,\n A fire is in his heart and brain,\n And Nature hath no healing for his pain.\n\n 3.\n The Moon is up, still pale\n {37}\n Amid the lingering light.\n A cloud ascending in the eastern sky,\n Sails slowly o'er the vale,\n And darkens round and closes-in the night.\n No hospitable house is nigh,\n No traveller's home the wanderers to invite.\n Forlorn, and with long watching overworn,\n The wretched father and the wretched child\n Lie down amid the wild.\n\n 4.\n Before them full in sight,\n A white flag flapping to the winds of night,\n Marks where the tyger seiz'd his human prey.\n Far, far away with natural dread,\n Shunning the perilous spot,\n At other times abhorrent had they fled;\n But now they heed it not.\n Nothing they care; the boding death-flag now\n In vain for them may gleam and flutter there.\n Despair and agony in him,\n Prevent all other thought;\n And Kailyal hath no heart or sense for aught,\n Save her dear father's strange and miserable lot.\n\n {38}\n\n 5.\n There in the woodland shade,\n Upon the lap of that unhappy maid,\n His head Ladurlad laid,\n And never word he spake;\n Nor heav'd he one complaining sigh,\n Nor groan'd he with his misery,\n But silently for her dear sake\n Endur'd the raging pain.\n And now the moon was hid on high,\n No stars were glimmering in the sky;\n She could not see her father's eye,\n How red with burning agony.\n Perhaps he may be cooler now;\n She hoped, and long'd to touch his brow\n With gentle hand, yet did not dare\n To lay the painful pressure there.\n Now forward from the tree she bent,\n And anxiously her head she leant,\n And listened to his breath.\n Ladurlad's breath was short and quick,\n Yet regular it came,\n And like the slumber of the sick,\n In pantings still the same.\n {39}\n Oh if he sleeps! . . . her lips unclose,\n Intently listening to the sound,\n That equal sound so like repose.\n Still quietly the sufferer lies,\n Bearing his torment now with resolute will;\n He neither moves, nor groans, nor sighs.\n Doth satiate cruelty bestow\n This little respite to his woe,\n She thought, or are there Gods who look below!\n\n 6.\n Perchance, thought Kailyal, willingly deceiv'd,\n Our Marriataly hath his pain reliev'd,\n And she hath bade the blessed sleep assuage\n His agony, despite the Rajah's rage.\n That was a hope which fill'd her gushing eyes,\n And made her heart in silent yearnings rise,\n To bless the Power divine in thankfulness.\n And yielding to that joyful thought her mind,\n Backward the maid her aching head reclin'd\n Against the tree, and to her father's breath\n In fear she hearken'd still with earnest ear.\n But soon forgetful fits the effort broke:\n In starts of recollection then she woke;\n {40}\n Till now benignant Nature overcame\n The Virgin's weary and exhausted frame,\n Nor able more her painful watch to keep,\n She clos'd her heavy lids, and sunk to sleep.\n\n 7.\n Vain was her hope! he did not rest from pain,\n The Curse was burning in his brain.\n Alas! the innocent maiden thought he slept,\n But Sleep the Rajah's dread commandment kept,\n Sleep knew Kehama's Curse.\n The dews of night fell round them now,\n They never bath'd Ladurlad's brow,\n They knew Kehama's Curse.\n The night-wind is abroad,\n Aloft it moves among the stirring trees.\n He only heard the breeze, . . .\n No healing aid to him it brought,\n It play'd around his head and touch'd him not,\n It knew Kehama's Curse.\n\n 8.\n Listening, Ladurlad lay in his despair,\n If Kailyal slept, for wherefore should she share\n {41}\n Her father's wretchedness which none could cure?\n Better alone to suffer; he must bear\n The burthen of his Curse, but why endure\n The unavailing presence of her grief?\n She too, apart from him, might find relief;\n For dead the Rajah deem'd her, and as thus\n Already she his dread revenge had fled,\n So might she still escape and live secure.\n\n 9.\n Gently he lifts his head,\n And Kailyal does not feel;\n Gently he rises up, . . . she slumbers still;\n Gently he steals away with silent tread.\n Anon she started, for she felt him gone;\n She call'd, and through the stillness of the night,\n His step was heard in flight.\n Mistrustful for a moment of the sound,\n She listens! till the step is heard no more;\n But then she knows that he indeed is gone,\n And with a thrilling shriek she rushes on.\n The darkness and the wood impede her speed;\n She lifts her voice again,\n Ladurlad! . . . and again, alike in vain,\n {42}\n And with a louder cry\n Straining its tone to hoarseness; . . . far away,\n Selfish in misery,\n He heard the call and faster did he fly.\n\n 10.\n She leans against that tree whose jutting bough\n Smote her so rudely. Her poor heart\n How audibly it panted,\n With sudden stop and start:\n Her breath how short and painfully it came!\n Hark! all is still around her, . . .\n And the night so utterly dark,\n She opened her eyes and she closed them,\n And the blackness and blank were the same.\n\n 11.\n 'Twas like a dream of horror, and she stood\n Half doubting whether all indeed were true.\n A Tyger's howl loud echoing through the wood,\n Rous'd her; the dreadful sound she knew,\n And turn'd instinctively to what she feared.\n Far off the Tyger's hungry howl was heard;\n A nearer horror met the maiden's view,\n {43}\n For right before her a dim form appear'd,\n A human form in that black night,\n Distinctly shaped by its own lurid light,\n Such light as the sickly moon is seen to shed,\n Through spell-rais'd fogs, a bloody baleful red.\n\n 12.\n That Spectre fix'd his eyes upon her full;\n The light which shone in their accursed orbs\n Was like a light from Hell,\n And it grew deeper, kindling with the view.\n She could not turn her sight\n From that infernal gaze, which like a spell\n Bound her, and held her rooted to the ground.\n It palsied every power;\n Her limbs avail'd her not in that dread hour.\n There was no moving thence,\n Thought, memory, sense were gone:\n She heard not now the Tyger's nearer cry,\n She thought not on her father now,\n Her cold heart's-blood ran back,\n Her hand lay senseless on the bough it clasp'd,\n Her feet were motionless;\n Her fascinated eyes\n {44}\n Like the stone eye-balls of a statue fix'd,\n Yet conscious of the sight that blasted them.\n\n 13.\n The wind is abroad,\n It opens the clouds;\n Scattered before the gale,\n They skurry through the sky,\n And the darkness retiring rolls over the vale.\n The stars in their beauty come forth on high,\n And through the dark-blue night\n The moon rides on triumphant, broad and bright.\n Distinct and darkening in her light\n Appears that Spectre foul.\n The moon beam gives his face and form to sight,\n The shape of man,\n The living form and face of Arvalan!\n His hands are spread to clasp her.\n\n 14.\n But at that sight of dread the maid awoke;\n As if a lightning-stroke\n Had burst the spell of fear,\n Away she broke all franticly and fled.\n {45}\n There stood a temple near beside the way,\n An open fane of Pollear, gentle God,\n To whom the travellers for protection pray.\n With elephantine head and eye severe,\n Here stood his image, such as when he seiz'd\n And tore the rebel giant from the ground,\n With mighty trunk wreath'd round\n His impotent bulk, and on his tusks, on high\n Impal'd upheld him between earth and sky.\n\n 15.\n Thither the affrighted maiden sped her flight,\n And she hath reach'd the place of sanctuary;\n And now within the temple in despite,\n Yea, even before the altar, in his sight,\n Hath Arvalan with fleshly arm of might\n Seiz'd her. That instant the insulted God\n Caught him aloft, and from his sinuous grasp,\n As if from some tort catapult let loose,\n Over the forest hurl'd him all abroad.\n\n 16.\n Overcome with dread,\n She tarried not to see what heavenly power\n {46}\n Had saved her in that hour.\n Breathless and faint she fled.\n And now her foot struck on the knotted root\n Of a broad manchineil, and there the maid\n Fell senselessly beneath the deadly shade.\n\n\n\n VI.\n CASYAPA.\n\n {47}\n\n 1.\n Shall this then be thy fate, O lovely Maid,\n Thus, Kailyal, must thy sorrows then be ended!\n Her face upon the ground,\n Her arms at length extended,\n There like a corpse behold her laid,\n Beneath the deadly shade.\n What if the hungry Tyger, prowling by,\n Should snuff his banquet nigh?\n Alas, Death needs not now his ministry;\n The baleful boughs hang o'er her,\n The poison-dews descend.\n What power will now restore her,\n {48}\n What God will be her friend?\n\n 2.\n Bright and so beautiful was that fair night,\n It might have calm'd the gay amid their mirth,\n And given the wretched a delight in tears.\n One of the Glendoveers,\n The loveliest race of all of heavenly birth,\n Hovering with gentle motion o'er the earth,\n Amid the moonlight air,\n In sportive flight was floating round and round,\n Unknowing where his joyous way was tending.\n He saw the maid where motionless she lay,\n And stoopt his flight descending,\n And rais'd her from the ground.\n Her heavy eye-lids are half clos'd,\n Her cheeks are pale and livid like the dead,\n Down hang her loose arms lifelessly,\n Down hangs her languid head.\n\n 3.\n With timely pity touch'd for one so fair,\n The gentle Glendoveer\n Prest her thus pale and senseless to his breast,\n {49}\n And springs aloft in air with sinewy wings,\n And bears the Maiden there,\n Where Himakoot, the holy Mount, on high\n From mid-earth rising in mid-Heaven,\n Shines in its glory like the throne of Even.\n Soaring with strenuous flight above,\n He bears her to the blessed Grove,\n Where in his ancient and august abodes,\n There dwells old Casyapa, the Sire of Gods.\n\n 4.\n The Father of the Immortals sate,\n Where underneath the Tree of Life\n The fountains of the Sacred River sprung:\n The Father of the Immortals smil'd\n Benignant on his son.\n Knowest thou, he said, my child,\n Ereenia, knowest thou whom thou bringest here,\n A mortal to the holy atmosphere?\n\n EREENIA.\n I found her in the Groves of Earth,\n Beneath a poison-tree,\n {50}\n Thus lifeless as thou seest her.\n In pity have I brought her to these bowers,\n Not erring, Father! by that smile . . .\n By that benignant eye!\n\n CASYAPA.\n What if the maid be sinful? If her ways\n Were ways of darkness, and her death predoom'd\n To that black hour of midnight, when the Moon\n Hath turn'd her face away,\n Unwilling to behold\n The unhappy end of guilt?\n\n EREENIA.\n Then what a lie, my Sire, were written here,\n In these fair characters! And she had died,\n Sure proof of purer life and happier doom,\n Now in the moonlight, in the eye of Heaven,\n If I had left so fair a flower to fade.\n But thou, . . . all knowing as thou art,\n Why askest thou of me?\n O Father, oldest, holiest, wisest, best,\n To whom all things are plain,\n {51}\n Why askest thou of me?\n\n CASYAPA.\n Knowest thou Kehama?\n\n EREENIA.\n The Almighty Man!\n Who knows not him and his tremendous power?\n The Tyrant of the Earth,\n The Enemy of Heaven!\n\n CASYAPA.\n Fearest thou the Rajah?\n\n EREENIA.\n He is terrible!\n\n CASYAPA.\n Yea, he is terrible! such power hath he,\n That hope hath entered Hell.\n The Asuras and the spirits of the damn'd\n Acclaim their Hero; Yamen, with the might\n Of Godhead, scarce can quell\n {52}\n The rebel race accurst;\n Half from their beds of torture they uprise,\n And half uproot their chains.\n Is there not fear in Heaven?\n The souls that are in bliss suspend their joy;\n The danger hath disturb'd\n The calm of Deity,\n And Brama fears, and Veeshnoo turns his face\n In doubt toward Seeva's throne.\n\n EREENIA.\n I have seen Indra tremble at his prayers,\n And at his dreadful penances turn pale.\n They claim and wrest from Seeva power so vast,\n That even Seeva's self,\n The Highest, cannot grant and be secure.\n\n CASYAPA.\n And darest thou, Ereenia, brave\n The Almighty Tyrant's power?\n\n EREENIA.\n I brave him, Father! I?\n\n {53}\n\n CASYAPA.\n Darest thou brave his vengeance? . . . for if not,\n Take her again to earth,\n Cast her before the tyger in his path,\n Or where the death-dew-dropping tree\n May work Kehama's will.\n\n EREENIA.\n Never!\n\n CASYAPA.\n Then meet his wrath! for he, even he,\n Hath set upon this worm his wanton foot.\n\n EREENIA.\n I knew her not, how wretched and how fair,\n When here I wafted her: . . . poor Child of Earth,\n Shall I forsake thee, seeing thee so fair,\n So wretched? O my Father, let the maid\n Dwell in the Sacred Grove.\n\n CASYAPA.\n That must not be,\n For Force and Evil then would enter here;\n {54}\n Ganges, the holy stream which cleanseth sin,\n Would flow from hence polluted in its springs,\n And they who gasp upon its banks in death,\n Feel no salvation. Piety and peace\n And Wisdom, these are mine; but not the power\n Which could protect her from the Almighty Man;\n Nor when the spirit of dead Arvalan\n Should persecute her here to glut his rage,\n To heap upon her yet more agony,\n And ripen more damnation for himself.\n\n EREENIA.\n Dead Arvalan?\n\n CASYAPA.\n All power to him, whereof\n The disembodied spirit in its state\n Of weakness could be made participant,\n Kehama hath assign'd, until his days\n Of wandering shall be numbered.\n\n EREENIA.\n Look! she drinks\n The gale of healing from the blessed Groves.\n {55}\n She stirs, and lo! her hand\n Hath touch'd the Holy River in its source,\n Who would have shrunk if aught impure were nigh.\n\n CASYAPA.\n The Maiden, of a truth, is pure from sin.\n\n 5.\n The waters of the holy Spring\n About the hand of Kailyal play;\n They rise, they sparkle, and they sing,\n Leaping where languidly she lay,\n As if with that rejoicing stir\n The holy Spring would welcome her.\n The Tree of Life which o'er her spread,\n Benignant bow'd its sacred head,\n And dropt its dews of healing;\n And her heart-blood at every breath,\n Recovering from the strife of death,\n Drew in new strength and feeling.\n Behold her beautiful in her repose,\n A life-bloom reddening now her dark-brown cheek;\n And lo! her eyes unclose,\n Dark as the depth of Ganges' spring profound\n {56}\n When night hangs over it,\n Bright as the moon's refulgent beam,\n That quivers on its clear up-sparkling stream.\n\n 6.\n Soon she let fall her lids,\n As one who, from a blissful dream\n Waking to thoughts of pain,\n Fain would return to sleep, and dream again.\n Distrustful of the sight,\n She moves not, fearing to disturb\n The deep and full delight.\n In wonder fix'd, opening again her eye\n She gazes silently,\n Thinking her mortal pilgrimage was past,\n That she had reach'd her heavenly home of rest,\n And these were Gods before her,\n Or spirits of the blest.\n\n 7.\n Lo! at Ereenia's voice,\n A Ship of Heaven comes sailing down the skies.\n Where wouldst thou bear her? cries\n The ancient Sire of Gods.\n {57}\n Straight to the Swerga, to my Bower of Bliss,\n The Glendoveer replies,\n To Indra's own abodes.\n Foe of her foe, were it alone for this\n Indra should guard her from his vengeance there;\n But if the God forbear,\n Unwilling yet the perilous strife to try,\n Or shrinking from the dreadful Rajah's might, . . .\n Weak as I am, O Father, even I\n Stand forth in Seeva's sight.\n\n 8.\n Trust thou in Him whatever betide,\n And stand forth fearlessly!\n The Sire of Gods replied:\n All that He wills is right, and doubt not thou,\n Howe'er our feeble scope of sight\n May fail us now,\n His righteous will in all things must be done.\n My blessing be upon thee, O my son!\n\n\n\n VII.\n THE SWERGA.\n\n {58}\n\n 1.\n Then in the Ship of Heaven, Ereenia laid\n The waking, wondering Maid;\n The Ship of Heaven, instinct with thought, display'd\n Its living sail, and glides along the sky.\n On either side in wavy tide,\n The clouds of morn along its path divide;\n The Winds who swept in wild career on high,\n Before its presence check their charmed force;\n The Winds that loitering lagg'd along their course,\n Around the living Bark enamour'd play,\n Swell underneath the sail, and sing before its way.\n\n {59}\n\n 2.\n That Bark, in shape, was like the furrowed shell\n Wherein the Sea-Nymphs to their parent-king,\n On festal day, their duteous offerings bring.\n Its hue? . . . Go watch the last green light\n Ere Evening yields the western sky to Night;\n Or fix upon the Sun thy strenuous sight\n Till thou hast reach'd its orb of chrysolite.\n The sail from end to end display'd\n Bent, like a rainbow, o'er the maid.\n An Angel's head, with visual eye,\n Through trackless space, directs its chosen way;\n Nor aid of wing, nor foot, nor fin,\n Requires to voyage o'er the obedient sky.\n Smooth as the swan when not a breeze at even\n Disturbs the surface of the silver stream,\n Through air and sunshine sails the Ship of Heaven.\n\n 3.\n Recumbent there the Maiden glides along\n On her aerial way,\n How swift she feels not, though the swiftest wind\n Had flagg'd in flight behind.\n Motionless as a sleeping babe she lay,\n {60}\n And all serene in mind,\n Feeling no fear; for that etherial air\n With such new life and joyance fill'd her heart,\n Fear could not enter there;\n For sure she deem'd her mortal part was o'er,\n And she was sailing to the heavenly shore;\n And that Angelic form, who mov'd beside,\n Was some good Spirit sent to be her guide.\n\n 4.\n Daughter of Earth! therein thou deem'st aright.\n And never yet did form more beautiful,\n In dreams of night descending from on high,\n Bless the religious Virgin's gifted sight;\n Nor, like a vision of delight,\n Rise on the raptur'd Poet's inward eye.\n Of human form divine was he,\n The immortal Youth of Heaven who floated by;\n Even such as that divinest form shall be\n In those blest stages of our onward race,\n When no infirmity,\n Low thought, nor base desire, nor wasting care,\n Deface the semblance of our heavenly sire.\n The wings of Eagle or of Cherubim\n {61}\n Had seem'd unworthy him:\n Angelic power and dignity and grace\n Were in his glorious pennons; from the neck\n Down to the ankle reach'd their swelling web,\n Richer than robes of Tyrian die, that deck\n Imperial majesty:\n Their colour like the winter's moonless sky\n When all the stars of midnight's canopy\n Shine forth; or like the azure deep at noon,\n Reflecting back to heaven a brighter blue.\n Such was their tint when clos'd, but when outspread,\n The permeating light\n Shed through their substance thin a varying hue;\n Now bright as when the Rose,\n Beauteous as fragrant, gives to scent and sight\n A like delight; now like the juice that flows\n From Douro's generous vine,\n Or ruby when with deepest red it glows;\n Or as the morning clouds refulgent shine\n When, at forthcoming of the Lord of Day,\n The Orient, like a shrine,\n Kindles as it receives the rising ray,\n And heralding his way,\n Proclaims the presence of the power divine.\n\n {62}\n\n 5.\n Thus glorious were the wings\n Of that celestial Spirit, as he went\n Disporting through his native element.\n Nor these alone\n The gorgeous beauties that they gave to view:\n Through the broad membrane branch'd a pliant bone;\n Spreading like fibres from their parent stem,\n Its veins like interwoven silver shone,\n Or as the chaster hue\n Of pearls that grace some Sultan's diadem.\n Now with slow stroke and strong, behold him smite\n The buoyant air, and now in gentler flight,\n On motionless wing expanded, shoot along.\n\n 6.\n Through air and sunshine sails the Ship of Heaven.\n Far far beneath them lies\n The gross and heavy atmosphere of earth;\n And with the Swerga gales,\n The Maid of mortal birth\n At every breath a new delight inhales.\n And now toward its port the Ship of Heaven,\n Swift as a falling meteor, shapes its flight,\n {63}\n Yet gently as the dews of night that gem,\n And do not bend the hare-bell's slenderest stem.\n Daughter of Earth, Ereenia cried, alight,\n This is thy place of rest, the Swerga this,\n Lo, here my Bower of Bliss!\n\n 7.\n He furl'd his azure wings, which round him fold\n Graceful as robes of Grecian chief of old.\n The happy Kailyal knew not where to gaze:\n Her eyes around in joyful wonder roam,\n Now turn'd upon the lovely Glendoveer,\n Now on his heavenly home.\n\n EREENIA.\n Here, Maiden, rest in peace,\n And I will guard thee, feeble as I am.\n The Almighty Rajah shall not harm thee here,\n While Indra keeps his throne.\n\n KAILYAL.\n Alas, thou fearest him!\n Immortal as thou art, thou fearest him!\n I thought that death had sav'd me from his power;\n {64}\n Not even the dead are safe.\n\n EREENIA.\n Long years of life and happiness,\n O Child of Earth, be thine!\n From death I sav'd thee, and from all thy foes\n Will save thee, while the Swerga is secure.\n\n KAILYAL.\n Not me alone, O gentle Deveta!\n I have a father suffering upon earth,\n A persecuted, wretched, poor, good man,\n For whose strange misery\n There is no human help,\n And none but I dare comfort him\n Beneath Kehama's curse.\n O gentle Deveta, protect him too!\n\n EREENIA.\n Come, plead thyself to Indra! words like thine\n May win their purpose, rouse his slumbering heart,\n And make him yet put forth his arm to wield\n The thunder, while the thunder is his own.\n\n {65}\n\n 8.\n Then to the garden of the Deity\n Ereenia led the maid.\n In the mid garden tower'd a giant Tree;\n Rock-rooted on a mountain-top, it grew,\n Rear'd its unrivall'd head on high,\n And stretch'd a thousand branches o'er the sky,\n Drinking with all its leaves celestial dew.\n Lo! where from thence as from a living well\n A thousand torrents flow!\n For still in one perpetual shower,\n Like diamond drops, etherial waters fell\n From every leaf of all its ample bower.\n Rolling adown the steep\n From that aerial height,\n Through the deep shade of aromatic trees,\n Half-seen, the cataracts shoot their gleams of light,\n And pour upon the breeze\n Their thousand voices; far away the roar,\n In modulations of delightful sound,\n Half-heard and ever varying, floats around.\n Below, an ample Lake expanded lies,\n Blue as the o'er-arching skies;\n Forth issuing from that lovely Lake,\n {66}\n A thousand rivers water Paradise.\n Full to the brink, yet never overflowing,\n They cool the amorous gales, which, ever blowing,\n O'er their melodious surface love to stray;\n Then winging back their way,\n Their vapours to the parent Tree repay;\n And ending thus where they began,\n And feeding thus the source from whence they came,\n The eternal rivers of the Swerga ran,\n For ever renovate, yet still the same.\n\n 9.\n On that etherial Lake whose waters lie\n Blue and transpicuous, like another sky,\n The Elements had rear'd their King's abode.\n A strong controuling power their strife suspended,\n And there their hostile essences they blended,\n To form a Palace worthy of the God.\n Built on the Lake the waters were its floor;\n And here its walls were water arch'd with fire,\n And here were fire with water vaulted o'er;\n And spires and pinnacles of fire\n Round watery cupolas aspire,\n And domes of rainbow rest on fiery towers;\n {67}\n And roofs of flame are turreted around\n With cloud, and shafts of cloud with flame are bound.\n Here, too, the Elements for ever veer,\n Ranging around with endless interchanging;\n Pursued in love, and so in love pursuing,\n In endless revolutions here they roll;\n For ever their mysterious work renewing,\n The parts all shifting, still unchanged the whole.\n Even we on earth, at intervals, descry\n Gleams of the glory, streaks of flowing light,\n Openings of heaven, and streams that flash at night\n In fitful splendour, through the northern sky.\n\n 10.\n Impatient of delay, Ereenia caught\n The Maid aloft, and spread his wings abroad,\n And bore her to the presence of the God.\n There Indra sate upon his throne reclin'd,\n Where Devetas adore him;\n The lute of Nared, warbling on the wind,\n All tones of magic harmony combin'd\n To sooth his troubled mind,\n While the dark-eyed Apsaras danced before him.\n In vain the God-musician played,\n {68}\n In vain the dark-eyed Nymphs of Heaven essay'd\n To charm him with their beauties in the dance;\n And when he saw the mortal Maid appear,\n Led by the heroic Glendoveer,\n A deeper trouble fill'd his countenance.\n What hast thou done, Ereenia, said the God,\n Bringing a mortal here?\n And while he spake his eye was on the Maid.\n The look he gave was solemn, not severe;\n No hope to Kailyal it convey'd,\n And yet it struck no fear;\n There was a sad displeasure in his air,\n But pity, too, was there.\n\n EREENIA.\n Hear me, O Indra! On the lower earth\n I found this child of man, by what mishap\n I know not, lying in the lap of death.\n Aloft I bore her to our Father's grove;\n Not having other thought, than when the gales\n Of bliss had heal'd her, upon earth again\n To leave its lovely daughter. Other thoughts\n Arose, when Casyapa declar'd her fate;\n For she is one who groans beneath the power\n {69}\n Of the dread Rajah, terrible alike\n To men and Gods. His son, dead Arvalan,\n Arm'd with a portion, Indra, of thy power\n Already wrested from thee, persecutes\n The Maid, the helpless one, the innocent.\n What then behov'd me but to waft her here\n To my own Bower of Bliss? what other choice?\n The spirit of foul Arvalan, not yet\n Hath power to enter here; here thou art yet\n Supreme, and yet the Swerga is thine own.\n\n INDRA.\n No child of man, Ereenia, in the Bowers\n Of Bliss may sojourn, till he hath put off\n His mortal part; for on mortality\n Time and Infirmity and Death attend,\n Close followers they, and in their mournful train\n Sorrow and Pain and Mutability:\n Did they find entrance here, we should behold\n Our joys, like earthly summers, pass away.\n Those joys perchance may pass; a stronger hand\n May wrest my sceptre, and unparadise\n The Swerga; . . . but, Ereenia, if we fall,\n Let it be Fate's own arm that casts us down,\n {70}\n We will not rashly hasten and provoke\n The blow, nor bring ourselves the ruin on.\n\n EREENIA.\n Fear courts the blow. Fear brings the ruin on.\n Needs must the chariot-wheels of Destiny\n Crush him who throws himself before their track,\n Patient and prostrate.\n\n INDRA.\n All may yet be well.\n Who knows but Veeshnoo will descend, and save,\n Once more incarnate?\n\n EREENIA.\n Look not there for help,\n Nor build on unsubstantial hope thy trust!\n Our Father Casyapa hath said he turns\n His doubtful eyes to Seeva, even as thou\n Dost look to him for aid. But thine own strength\n Should for thine own salvation be put forth;\n Then might the higher powers approving see\n And bless the brave resolve . . . Oh, that my arm\n Could wield yon lightnings which play idly there,\n {71}\n In inoffensive radiance, round thy head!\n The Swerga should not need a champion now,\n Nor Earth implore deliverance still in vain!\n\n INDRA.\n Thinkest thou I want the will? rash Son of Heaven,\n What if my arm be feeble as thine own\n Against the dread Kehama? He went on\n Conquering in irresistible career,\n Till his triumphant car had measur'd o'er\n The insufficient earth, and all the kings\n Of men received his yoke; then had he won\n His will, to ride upon their necks elate,\n And crown his conquests with the sacrifice\n That should, to men and gods, proclaim him Lord\n And Sovereign Master of the vassal World,\n Sole Rajah, the Omnipotent below.\n The steam of that portentous sacrifice\n Arose to Heaven. Then was the hour to strike.\n Then in the consummation of his pride,\n His height of glory, then the thunder-bolt\n Should have gone forth, and hurl'd him from his throne\n Down to the fiery floor of Padalon,\n To everlasting burnings, agony\n {72}\n Eternal, and remorse which knows no end.\n That hour went by: grown impious in success,\n By prayer and penances he wrested now\n Such power from Fate, that soon, if Seeva turn not\n His eyes on earth, and no Avatar save,\n Soon will he seize the Swerga for his own,\n Roll on through Padalon his chariot wheels,\n Tear up the adamantine bolts which lock\n The accurst Asuras to its burning floor,\n And force the drink of Immortality\n From Yamen's charge . . . Vain were it now to strive;\n My thunder cannot pierce the sphere of power\n Wherewith, as with a girdle, he is bound.\n\n KAILYAL.\n Take me to earth, O gentle Deveta!\n Take me again to earth! This is no place\n Of hope for me! . . . my Father still must bear\n His curse . . . he shall not bear it all alone;\n Take me to earth, that I may follow him! . . .\n I do not fear the Almighty Man! the Gods\n Are feeble here; but there are higher powers\n Who will not turn their eyes from wrongs like ours;\n Take me to earth, O gentle Deveta! . . .\n\n {73}\n\n 11.\n Saying thus she knelt, and to his knees she clung,\n And bow'd her head, in tears and silence praying.\n Rising anon, around his neck she flung\n Her arms, and there with folded hands she hung,\n And fixing on the guardian Glendoveer\n Her eyes, more eloquent than Angel's tongue,\n Again she cried, There is no comfort here!\n I must be with my Father in his pain . . .\n Take me to earth, O Deveta, again!\n\n 12.\n Indra with admiration heard the maid.\n O Child of Earth, he cried,\n Already in thy spirit thus divine,\n Whatever weal or woe betide,\n Be that high sense of duty still thy guide,\n And all good Powers will aid a soul like thine.\n Then turning to Ereenia, thus he said,\n Take her where Ganges hath its second birth,\n Below our sphere, and yet above the earth:\n There may Ladurlad rest beyond the power\n Of the dread Rajah, till the fated hour.\n\n\n\n VIII.\n THE SACRIFICE.\n\n {74}\n\n 1.\n Dost thou tremble, O Indra, O God of the Sky,\n Why slumber those thunders of thine?\n Dost thou tremble on high, . . .\n Wilt thou tamely the Swerga resign, . . .\n Art thou smitten, O Indra, with dread?\n Or seest thou not, seest thou not, Monarch divine,\n How many a day to Seeva's shrine\n Kehama his victim hath led?\n Nine and ninety days are fled,\n Nine and ninety steeds have bled;\n One more, the rite will be complete,\n One victim more; and this the dreadful day!\n {75}\n Then will the impious Rajah seize thy seat,\n And wrest the thunder-sceptre from thy sway.\n Along the mead the hallowed steed\n Yet bends at liberty his way;\n At noon his consummating blood will flow.\n O day of woe! above, below,\n That blood confirms the Almighty Tyrant's reign!\n Thou tremblest, O Indra, O God of the Sky,\n Thy thunder is vain!\n Thou tremblest on high for thy power!\n But where is Veeshnoo at this hour?\n But where is Seeva's eye?\n Is the Destroyer blind?\n Is the Preserver careless for mankind?\n\n 2.\n Along the mead the hallowed Steed\n Still wanders wheresoever he will,\n O'er hill, or dale, or plain;\n No human hand hath trick'd that mane\n From which he shakes the morning dew;\n His mouth has never felt the rein,\n His lips have never froth'd the chain;\n For pure of blemish and of stain,\n {76}\n His neck unbroke to mortal yoke,\n Like Nature free the Steed must be,\n Fit offering for the Immortals he.\n A year and day the Steed must stray\n Wherever chance may guide his way,\n Before he fall at Seeva's shrine;\n The year and day have past away,\n Nor touch of man hath marr'd the rite divine.\n And now at noon the Steed must bleed;\n The perfect rite to-day must force the meed\n Which Fate reluctant shudders to bestow;\n Then must the Swerga-God\n Yield to the Tyrant of the World below;\n Then must the Devetas obey\n The Rajah's rod, and groan beneath his hateful sway.\n\n 3.\n The Sun rides high; the hour is nigh;\n The multitude who long,\n Lest aught should mar the rite,\n In circle wide on every side,\n Have kept the Steed in sight,\n Contract their circle now, and drive him on.\n Drawn in long files before the Temple-court,\n {77}\n The Rajah's archers flank an ample space;\n Here, moving onward still, they drive him near,\n Then, opening, give him way to enter here.\n\n 4.\n Behold him, how he starts and flings his head!\n On either side in glittering order spread,\n The archers ranged in narrowing lines appear;\n The multitude behind close up the rear\n With moon-like bend, and silently await\n The awful end,\n The rite that shall from Indra wrest his power.\n In front, with far-stretch'd walls, and many a tower\n Turret and dome and pinnacle elate,\n The huge Pagoda seems to load the land:\n And there before the gate\n The Bramin band expectant stand,\n The axe is ready for Kehama's hand.\n\n 5.\n Hark! at the Golden Palaces\n The Bramin strikes the time!\n One, two, three, four, a thrice-told chime,\n And then again, one, two.\n {78}\n The bowl that in its vessel floats, anew\n Must fill and sink again,\n Then will the final stroke be due.\n The Sun rides high, the noon is nigh,\n And silently, as if spell-bound,\n The multitude expect the sound.\n\n 6.\n Lo! how the Steed, with sudden start,\n Turns his quick head to every part;\n Long files of men on every side appear.\n The sight might well his heart affright,\n And yet the silence that is here\n Inspires a stranger fear;\n For not a murmur, not a sound\n Of breath or motion rises round,\n No stir is heard in all that mighty crowd;\n He neighs, and from the temple-wall\n The voice re-echoes loud,\n Loud and distinct, as from a hill\n Across a lonely vale, when all is still.\n\n 7.\n Within the temple, on his golden throne\n {79}\n Reclin'd, Kehama lies,\n Watching with steady eyes\n The perfum'd light that, burning bright,\n Metes out the passing hours.\n On either hand his eunuchs stand,\n Freshening with fans of peacock-plumes the air,\n Which, redolent of all rich gums and flowers,\n Seems, overcharged with sweets, to stagnate there.\n Lo! the time-taper's flame ascending slow\n Creeps up its coil toward the fated line;\n Kehama rises and goes forth,\n And from the altar, ready where it lies,\n He takes the axe of sacrifice.\n\n 8.\n That, instant from the crowd, with sudden shout,\n A man sprang out\n To lay upon the Steed his hand profane.\n A thousand archers, with unerring eye,\n At once let fly,\n And with their hurtling arrows fill the sky.\n In vain they fall upon him fast as rain;\n He bears a charmed life, which may defy\n All weapons, . . . and the darts that whizz around,\n {80}\n As from an adamantine panoply\n Repell'd, fall idly to the ground.\n Kehama clasp'd his hands in agony,\n And saw him grasp the hallowed courser's mane,\n Spring up with sudden bound,\n And with a frantic cry,\n And madman's gesture, gallop round and round.\n\n 9.\n They seize, they drag him to the Rajah's feet.\n What doom will now be his, . . what vengeance meet\n Will he, who knows no mercy, now require?\n The obsequious guards around, with blood-hound eye,\n Look for the word, in slow-consuming fire,\n By piece-meal death, to make the wretch expire,\n Or hoist his living carcase, hook'd on high,\n To feed the fowls and insects of the sky;\n Or if aught worse inventive cruelty\n To that remorseless heart of royalty\n Might prompt, accursed instruments they stand\n To work the wicked will with wicked hand.\n Far other thoughts were in the multitude;\n Pity, and human feelings, held them still;\n And stifled sighs and groans supprest were there,\n {81}\n And many a secret curse and inward prayer\n Call'd on the insulted Gods to save mankind.\n Expecting some new crime in fear they stood,\n Some horror which would make the natural blood\n Start, with cold shudderings thrill the sinking heart,\n Whiten the lip, and make the abhorrent eye\n Roll back and close, prest in for agony.\n\n 10.\n How then fared he for whom the mighty crowd\n Suffered in spirit thus, . . . how then fared he?\n A ghastly smile was on his lip, his eye\n Glared with a ghastly hope, as he drew nigh,\n And cried aloud, Yes, Rajah! it is I!\n And wilt thou kill me now?\n The countenance of the Almighty Man\n Fell when he knew Ladurlad, and his brow\n Was clouded with despite, as one ashamed.\n That wretch again! indignant he exclaim'd,\n And smote his forehead, and stood silently\n Awhile in wrath: then, with ferocious smile,\n And eyes which seem'd to darken his dark cheek,\n Let him go free! he cried; he hath his Curse,\n And Vengeance upon him can wreak no worse . . .\n {82}\n But ye who did not seize him . . . tremble ye!\n\n 11.\n He bade the archers pile their weapons there:\n No manly courage fill'd the slavish band,\n No sweetening vengeance rous'd a brave despair.\n He call'd his horsemen then, and gave command\n To hem the offenders in, and hew them down.\n Ten thousand scymitars at once uprear'd,\n Flash up, like waters sparkling to the sun;\n A second time the fatal brands appear'd\n Lifted aloft, . . . they glitter'd then no more,\n Their light was gone, their splendour quenched in gore.\n At noon the massacre begun,\n And night clos'd in before the work of death was done.\n\n\n\n IX.\n THE HOME-SCENE.\n\n {83}\n\n 1.\n The steam of slaughter from that place of blood\n Spread o'er the tainted sky.\n Vultures, for whom the Rajah's tyranny\n So oft had furnish'd food, from far and nigh\n Sped to the lure: aloft with joyful cry,\n Wheeling around, they hover'd over head;\n Or, on the temple perch'd, with greedy eye,\n Impatient watch'd the dead.\n Far off the tygers, in the inmost wood,\n Heard the death-shriek, and snuff'd the scent of blood.\n They rose, and through the covert went their way,\n Couch'd at the forest edge, and waited for their prey.\n\n {84}\n\n 2.\n He who had sought for death went wandering on,\n The hope which had inspir'd his heart was gone,\n Yet a wild joyance still inflam'd his face,\n A smile of vengeance, a triumphant glow.\n Where goes he? . . . Whither should Ladurlad go!\n Unwittingly the wretch's footsteps trace\n Their wonted path toward his dwelling-place;\n And wandering on, unknowing where,\n He starts at finding he is there.\n\n 3.\n Behold his lowly home,\n By yonder broad-bough'd plane o'ershaded:\n There Marriataly's image stands,\n And there the garland twin'd by Kailyal's hands\n Around its brow hath faded.\n The Peacocks, at their master's sight,\n Quick from the leafy thatch alight,\n And hurry round, and search the ground,\n And veer their glancing necks from side to side,\n Expecting from his hand\n Their daily dole, which erst the maid supplied,\n Now all too long denied.\n\n {85}\n\n 4.\n But as he gaz'd around,\n How strange did all accustom'd sights appear!\n How differently did each familiar sound\n Assail his altered ear!\n Here stood the marriage bower,\n Rear'd in that happy hour\n When he, with festal joy and youthful pride,\n Had brought Yedillian home, his beauteous bride.\n Leaves not its own, and many a borrowed flower,\n Had then bedeck'd it, withering ere the night;\n But he who look'd, from that auspicious day,\n For years of long delight,\n And would not see the marriage-bower decay,\n There planted and nurst up, with daily care,\n The sweetest herbs that scent the ambient air,\n And train'd them round to live and flourish there.\n Nor when dread Yamen's will\n Had call'd Yedillian from his arms away,\n Ceas'd he to tend the marriage-bower, but still,\n Sorrowing, had drest it like a pious rite\n Due to the monument of past delight.\n\n 5.\n He took his wonted seat before the door, . . .\n {86}\n Even as of yore,\n When he was wont to view, with placid eyes,\n His daughter at her evening sacrifice.\n Here were the flowers which she so carefully\n Did love to rear for Marriataly's brow;\n Neglected now,\n Their heavy heads were drooping, over-blown:\n All else appeared the same as heretofore,\n All . . . save himself alone;\n How happy then, . . . and now a wretch for evermore!\n\n 6.\n The market-flag which hoisted high,\n From far and nigh,\n Above yon cocoa grove is seen,\n Hangs motionless amid the sultry sky.\n Loud sounds the village-drum: a happy crowd\n Is there; Ladurlad hears their distant voices,\n But with their joy no more his heart rejoices;\n And how their old companion now may fare,\n Little they know, and less they care.\n The torment he is doom'd to hear\n Was but to them the wonder of a day,\n A burthen of sad thoughts soon put away.\n\n {87}\n\n 7.\n They knew not that the wretched man was near,\n And yet it seem'd, to his distempered ear,\n As if they wrong'd him with their merriment.\n Resentfully he turn'd away his eyes,\n Yet turn'd them but to find\n Sights that enraged his mind\n With envious grief more wild and overpowering.\n The tank which fed his fields was there, and there\n The large-leav'd lotus on the waters flowering.\n There, from the intolerable heat,\n The buffaloes retreat;\n Only their nostrils rais'd to meet the air,\n Amid the sheltering element they rest.\n Impatient of the sight, he clos'd his eyes,\n And bow'd his burning head, and in despair\n Calling on Indra, . . . Thunder-God! he said,\n Thou owest to me alone this day thy throne,\n Be grateful, and in mercy strike me dead!\n\n 8.\n Despair had rous'd him to that hopeless prayer,\n Yet thinking on the heavenly Powers, his mind\n Drew comfort; and he rose and gather'd flowers,\n {88}\n And twin'd a crown for Marriataly's brow;\n And taking then her withered garland down,\n Replaced it with the blooming coronal.\n Not for myself, the unhappy Father cried,\n Not for myself, O mighty one! I pray,\n Accursed as I am beyond thy aid!\n But, oh! be gracious still to that dear Maid\n Who crown'd thee with these garlands day by day,\n And danced before thee aye at even-tide\n In beauty and in pride.\n O Marriataly, wheresoe'er she stray\n Forlorn and wretched, still be thou her guide!\n\n 9.\n A loud and fiendish laugh replied,\n Scoffing his prayer. Aloft, as from the air,\n The sound of insult came: he look'd, and there\n The visage of dead Arvalan came forth,\n Only his face amid the clear blue sky,\n With long-drawn lips of insolent mockery,\n And eyes whose lurid glare\n Was like a sulphur fire,\n Mingling with darkness ere its flames expire.\n\n {89}\n\n 10.\n Ladurlad knew him well: enraged to see\n The cause of all his misery,\n He stoop'd and lifted from the ground\n A stake, whose fatal point was black with blood;\n The same wherewith his hand had dealt the wound,\n When Arvalan, in hour with evil fraught,\n For violation seiz'd the shrieking Maid.\n Thus arm'd, in act again to strike he stood,\n And twice with inefficient wrath essay'd\n To smite the impassive shade.\n The lips of scorn their mockery-laugh renew'd,\n And Arvalan put forth a hand and caught\n The sun-beam, and condensing there its light,\n Upon Ladurlad turn'd the burning stream.\n Vain cruelty! the stake\n Fell in white ashes from his hold, but he\n Endur'd no added pain; his agony\n Was full, and at the height;\n The burning stream of radiance nothing harm'd him:\n A fire was in his heart and brain,\n And from all other flame\n Kehama's Curse had charm'd him.\n\n {90}\n\n 11.\n Anon the Spirit wav'd a second hand;\n Down rush'd the obedient whirlwind from the sky;\n Scoop'd up the sand like smoke, and from on high\n Shed the hot shower upon Ladurlad's head.\n Where'er he turns, the accursed Hand is there;\n East, West, and North and South, on every side\n The Hand accursed waves in air to guide\n The dizzying storm; ears, nostrils, eyes and mouth,\n It fills and choaks, and, clogging every pore,\n Taught him new torments might be yet in store.\n Where shall he turn to fly? behold his house\n In flames; uprooted lies the marriage-bower,\n The Goddess buried by the sandy shower.\n Blindly, with staggering step, he reels about,\n And still the accursed Hand pursued,\n And still the lips of scorn their mockery laugh renew'd.\n\n 12.\n What, Arvalan! hast thou so soon forgot\n The grasp of Pollear? Wilt thou still defy\n The righteous Powers of Heaven? or know'st thou not\n That there are yet superior Powers on high,\n {91}\n Son of the Wicked? . . . Lo, in rapid flight,\n Ereenia hastens from the etherial height;\n Bright is the sword celestial in his hand,\n Like lightning in its path athwart the sky.\n He comes and drives, with angel-arm, the blow.\n Oft have the Asuras, in the wars of Heaven,\n Felt that keen sword by arm angelic driven,\n And fled before it from the fields of light.\n Thrice through the vulnerable shade\n The Glendoveer impels the griding blade.\n The wicked Shade flies howling from his foe.\n So let that spirit foul\n Fly, and for impotence of anger, howl,\n Writhing with pain, and o'er his wounds deplore;\n Worse punishment hath Arvalan deserv'd,\n And righteous Fate hath heavier doom in store.\n\n 13.\n Not now the Glendoveer pursued his flight.\n He bade the Ship of Heaven alight,\n And gently there he laid\n The astonished Father by the happy Maid,\n The Maid now shedding tears of deep delight.\n {92}\n Beholding all things with incredulous eyes,\n Still dizzy with the sand-storm, there he lay,\n While sailing up the skies, the living Bark,\n Through air and sunshine, held its heavenly way.\n\n\n\n X.\n MOUNT MERU.\n\n {93}\n\n 1.\n Swift through the sky the vessel of the Suras\n Sails up the fields of ether like an Angel.\n Rich is the freight, O Vessel, that thou bearest!\n Beauty and Virtue,\n Fatherly cares and filial veneration,\n Hearts which are prov'd and strengthen'd by affliction,\n Manly resentment, fortitude and action,\n Womanly goodness;\n All with which Nature halloweth her daughters,\n Tenderness, truth and purity and meekness,\n Piety, patience, faith and resignation,\n {94}\n Love and devotement.\n Ship of the Gods! how richly art thou laden!\n Proud of the charge, thou voyagest rejoicing.\n Clouds float around to honour thee, and Evening\n Lingers in heaven.\n\n 2.\n A Stream descends on Meru mountain;\n None hath seen its secret fountain;\n It had its birth, so sages say,\n Upon the memorable day\n When Parvati presumed to lay,\n In wanton play,\n Her hands, too venturous Goddess in her mirth,\n On Seeva's eyes, the light and life of Earth.\n Thereat the heart of the Universe stood still;\n The Elements ceas'd their influences; the Hours\n Stopt on the eternal round; Motion and Breath,\n Time, Change, and Life and Death,\n In sudden trance opprest, forgot their powers.\n A moment, and the dread eclipse was ended;\n But, at the thought of Nature thus suspended,\n The sweat on Seeva's forehead stood,\n And Ganges thence upon the World descended,\n {95}\n The Holy River, the Redeeming Flood.\n\n 3.\n None hath seen its secret fountain;\n But on the top of Meru mountain,\n Which rises o'er the hills of earth,\n In light and clouds it hath its mortal birth.\n Earth seems that pinnacle to rear\n Sublime above this worldly sphere,\n Its cradle, and its altar, and its throne;\n And there the new-born River lies\n Outspread beneath its native skies,\n As if it there would love to dwell\n Alone and unapproachable.\n Soon flowing forward, and resign'd\n To the will of the Creating Mind,\n It springs at once, with sudden leap,\n Down from the immeasurable steep.\n From rock to rock, with shivering force rebounding,\n The mighty cataract rushes; Heaven around,\n Like-thunder, with the incessant roar resounding,\n And Meru's summit shaking with the sound.\n Wide spreads the snowy foam, the sparkling spray\n Dances aloft; and ever there, at morning,\n {96}\n The earliest, sun-beams haste to wing their way,\n With rain-bow wreaths the holy flood adorning;\n And duly the adoring Moon at night\n Sheds her white glory there,\n And in the watery air\n Suspends her halo-crowns of silver light.\n\n 4.\n A mountain-valley in its blessed breast\n Receives the stream, which there delights to lie,\n Untroubled and at rest,\n Beneath the untainted sky.\n There in a lovely lake it seems to sleep,\n And thence, through many a channel dark and deep,\n Their secret way the holy Waters wind,\n Till, rising underneath the root\n Of the Tree of Life on Himakoot,\n Majestic forth they flow to purify mankind.\n\n 5.\n Toward this Lake, above the nether sphere,\n The living Bark, with angel eye,\n Directs its course along the obedient sky.\n Kehama hath not yet dominion here;\n {97}\n And till the dreaded hour,\n When Indra by the Rajah shall be driven\n Dethron'd from Heaven,\n Here may Ladurlad rest beyond his power.\n The living Bark alights; the Glendoveer\n Then lays Ladurlad by the blessed Lake; . . .\n O happy Sire, and yet more happy Daughter!\n The etherial gales his agony aslake,\n His daughter's tears are on his cheek,\n His hand is in the water;\n The innocent man, the man opprest,\n Oh joy! . . . hath found a place of rest\n Beyond Kehama's sway,\n His curse extends not here; his pains have past away.\n\n 6.\n O happy Sire, and happy Daughter!\n Ye on the banks of that celestial water\n Your resting place and sanctuary have found.\n What! hath not then their mortal taint defil'd\n The sacred solitary ground?\n Vain thought! . . the Holy Valley smil'd\n Receiving such a sire and child;\n Ganges, who seem'd asleep to lie,\n {98}\n Beheld them with benignant eye,\n And ripped round melodiously,\n And roll'd her little waves, to meet\n And welcome their beloved feet.\n The gales of Swerga thither fled,\n And heavenly odours there were shed\n About, below, and overhead;\n And Earth, rejoicing in their tread,\n Hath built them up a blooming Bower,\n Where every amaranthine flower\n Its deathless blossom interweaves\n With bright and undecaying leaves.\n\n 7.\n Three happy beings are there here,\n The Sire, the Maid, the Glendoveer.\n A fourth approaches, . . . who is this\n That enters in the Bower of Bliss?\n No form so fair might painter find\n Among the daughters of mankind;\n For death her beauties hath refin'd,\n And unto her a form hath given,\n Fram'd of the elements of Heaven;\n Pure dwelling-place for perfect mind.\n {99}\n She stood and gaz'd on sire and child;\n Her tongue not yet had power to speak,\n The tears were streaming down her cheek;\n And when those tears her sight beguil'd,\n And still her faultering accents fail'd,\n The Spirit, mute and motionless,\n Spread out her arms for the caress,\n Made still and silent with excess\n Of love and painful happiness.\n\n 8.\n The Maid that lovely form survey'd;\n Wistful she gaz'd, and knew her not;\n But Nature to her heart convey'd\n A sudden thrill, a startling thought,\n A feeling many a year forgot,\n Now like a dream anew recurring,\n As if again in every vein\n Her mother's milk was stirring.\n With straining neck and earnest eye\n She stretch'd her hands imploringly,\n As if she fain would have her nigh,\n Yet fear'd to meet the wish'd embrace,\n At once with love and awe opprest,\n {100}\n Not so, Ladurlad; he could trace,\n Though brighten'd with angelic grace,\n His own Yedillian's earthly face;\n He ran and held her to his breast!\n Oh joy above all joys of Heaven,\n By Death alone to others given,\n This moment hath to him restor'd\n The early-lost, the long-deplor'd.\n\n 9.\n They sin who tell us love can die.\n With life all other passions fly,\n All others are but vanity.\n In Heaven Ambition cannot dwell,\n Nor Avarice in the vaults of Hell;\n Earthly these passions of the Earth,\n They perish where they have their birth;\n But Love is indestructible.\n Its holy flame for ever burneth,\n From Heaven it came, to Heaven returneth;\n Too oft on Earth a troubled guest,\n At times deceiv'd, at times opprest,\n It here is tried and purified,\n Then hath in Heaven its perfect rest:\n {101}\n It soweth here with toil and care,\n But the harvest-time of Love is there.\n Oh! when a Mother meets on high\n The Babe she lost in infancy,\n Hath she not then, for pains and fears,\n The day of woe, the watchful night,\n For all her sorrow, all her tears,\n An over-payment of delight!\n\n 10.\n A blessed family is this\n Assembled in the Bower of Bliss!\n Strange woe, Ladurlad, hath been thine,\n And pangs beyond all human measure,\n And thy reward is now divine,\n A foretaste of eternal pleasure.\n He knew indeed there was a day\n When all these joys would pass away,\n And he must quit this blest abode;\n And, taking up again the spell,\n Groan underneath the baleful load,\n And wander o'er the world again\n Most wretched of the sons of men:\n Yet was this brief repose, as when\n {102}\n A traveller in the Arabian sands,\n Half-fainting on his sultry road,\n Hath reach'd the water-place at last;\n And resting there beside the Well,\n Thinks of the perils he has past,\n And gazes o'er the unbounded plain,\n The plain which must be travers'd still,\n And drinks, . . . yet cannot drink his fill;\n Then girds his patient loins again.\n So to Ladurlad now was given\n New strength, and confidence in Heaven,\n And hope, and faith invincible.\n For often would Ereenia tell\n Of what in elder days befell,\n When other Tyrants, in their might,\n Usurp'd dominion o'er the earth;\n And Veeshnoo took a human birth,\n Deliverer of the Sons of men;\n And slew the huge Ermaccasen,\n And piece-meal rent, with lion force,\n Errenen's accursed corse,\n And humbled Baly in his pride;\n And when the Giant Ravanen\n Had borne triumphant, from his side,\n {103}\n Sita, the earth-born God's beloved bride,\n Then, from his island-kingdom, laugh'd to scorn\n The insulted husband, and his power defied;\n How to revenge the wrong in wrath he hied,\n Bridging the sea before his dreadful way,\n And met the hundred-headed foe,\n And dealt him the unerring blow;\n By Brama's hand the righteous lance was given,\n And by that arm immortal driven,\n It laid the mighty Tyrant low;\n And Earth and Ocean, and high Heaven,\n Rejoiced to see his overthrow.\n Oh! doubt not thou, Yedillian cried,\n Such fate Kehama will betide;\n For there are Gods who look below. . . .\n Seeva, the Avenger, is not blind,\n Nor Veeshnoo careless for mankind.\n\n 11.\n Thus was Ladurlad's soul imbued\n With hope and holy fortitude;\n And Child and Sire, with pious mind\n Alike resolv'd, alike resign'd,\n Look'd onward to the evil day:\n {104}\n Faith was their comfort, Faith their stay;\n They trusted woe would pass away,\n And Tyranny would sink subdued,\n And Evil yield to Good.\n\n 12.\n Lovely wert thou, O Flower of Earth!\n Above all flowers of mortal birth;\n But foster'd in this blissful bower\n From day to day, and hour to hour,\n Lovelier grew the lovely flower.\n O blessed, blessed company!\n When men and heavenly spirits greet,\n And they whom Death had severed meet,\n And hold again communion sweet; . . .\n O blessed, blessed company!\n The Sun, careering round the sky,\n Beheld them with rejoicing eye,\n And bade his willing Charioteer\n Relax their speed as they drew near;\n Arounin check'd the rainbow reins,\n The seven green coursers shook their manes,\n And brighter rays around them threw;\n The Car of glory in their view\n {105}\n More radiant, more resplendent grew;\n And Surya, through his veil of light,\n Beheld the Bower, and blest the sight.\n The Lord of Night, as he sail'd by,\n Stay'd his pearly boat on high;\n And, while around the blissful Bower\n He bade the softest moonlight flow,\n Lingered to see that earthly flower,\n Forgetful of his dragon foe,\n Who, mindful of their ancient feud,\n With open jaws of rage pursued.\n There all good Spirits of the air,\n Suras and Devetas repair,\n Aloft they love to hover there\n And view the flower of mortal birth,\n Here, for her innocence and worth,\n Transplanted from the fields of earth; . . .\n And him who, on the dreadful day\n When Heaven was fill'd with consternation,\n And Indra trembled with dismay,\n And, for the sounds of joy and mirth,\n Woe was heard and lamentation,\n Defied the Rajah in his pride,\n Though all in Heaven and Earth beside\n Stood mute in dolorous expectation;\n {106}\n And, rushing forward in that hour,\n Saved the Swerga from his power.\n Grateful for this they hover nigh,\n And bless the blessed company.\n\n 13.\n One God alone, with wanton eye,\n Beheld them in their bower;\n O ye, he cried, who have defied\n The Rajah, will ye mock my power?\n 'Twas Camdeo riding on his lory,\n 'Twas the immortal youth of Love;\n If men below and Gods above,\n Subject alike, quoth he, have felt these darts,\n Shall ye alone, of all in story,\n Boast impenetrable hearts?\n Hover here, my gentle lory,\n Gently hover, while I see\n To whom hath Fate decreed the glory,\n To the Glendoveer or me.\n\n 14.\n Then, in the dewy evening sky,\n The bird of gorgeous plumery\n Pois'd his wings and hover'd nigh.\n {107}\n It chanced at that delightful hour\n Kailyal sate before the Bower,\n On the green bank with amaranth sweet,\n Where Ganges warbled at her feet.\n Ereenia there, before the Maid,\n His sails of ocean-blue displayed;\n And sportive in her sight,\n Mov'd slowly o'er the lake with gliding flight;\n Anon, with sudden stroke and strong,\n In rapid course careering, swept along;\n Now shooting downward from his heavenly height,\n Plunged in the deep below,\n Then rising, soar'd again,\n And shook the sparkling waters off like rain,\n And hovering o'er the silver surface hung.\n At him young Camdeo bent the bow;\n With living bees the bow was strung,\n The fatal bow of sugar-cane,\n And flowers which would inflame the heart\n With their petals barb'd the dart.\n\n 15.\n The shaft, unerringly addrest,\n Unerring flew, and smote Ereenia's breast.\n Ah, Wanton! cried the Glendoveer,\n {108}\n Go aim at idler hearts,\n Thy skill is baffled here!\n A deeper love I bear that Maid divine,\n Sprung from a higher will,\n A holier power than thine!\n A second shaft, while thus Ereenia cried,\n Had Camdeo aim'd at Kailyal's side,\n But, lo! the Bees which strung his bow\n Broke off, and took their flight.\n To that sweet Flower of earth they wing their way,\n Around her raven tresses play,\n And buzz about her with delight,\n As if, with that melodious sound,\n They strove to pay their willing duty\n To mortal purity and beauty.\n Ah, Wanton! cried the Glendoveer,\n No power hast thou for mischief here!\n Chuse thou some idler breast,\n For these are proof, by nobler thoughts possest.\n Go, to thy plains of Matra go,\n And string again thy broken bow!\n\n 16.\n Rightly Ereenia spake; and ill had thoughts\n Of earthly love beseem'd the sanctuary\n {109}\n Where Kailyal had been wafted, that the Soul\n Of her dead mother there might strengthen her,\n Feeding her with the milk of heavenly lore;\n And influxes of Heaven imbue her heart\n With hope and faith, and holy fortitude,\n Against the evil day. Here rest a while\n In peace, O Father! mark'd for misery\n Above all sons of men; O Daughter! doom'd\n For sufferings and for trials above all\n Of women; . . . yet both favour'd, both belov'd\n By all good Powers, here rest a while in peace.\n\n\n\n XI.\n THE ENCHANTRESS.\n\n {110}\n\n 1.\n When from the sword, by arm angelic driven,\n Foul Arvalan fled howling, wild in pain,\n His thin essential spirit, rent and riven\n With wounds, united soon and heal'd again;\n Backward the accursed turn'd his eye in flight,\n Remindful of revengeful thoughts even then,\n And saw where, gliding through the evening light,\n The Ship of Heaven sail'd upward through the sky,\n Then, like a meteor, vanish'd from his sight.\n Where should he follow? vainly might he try\n To trace through trackless air its rapid course;\n {111}\n Nor dar'd he that; angelic arm defy,\n Still sore and writhing from its dreaded force.\n\n 2.\n Should he the lust of vengeance lay aside?\n Too long had Arvalan in ill been train'd;\n Nurst up in power and tyranny and pride,\n His soul the ignominious thought disdain'd.\n Or to his mighty father should he go,\n Complaining of defeature twice sustain'd,\n And ask new powers to meet the immortal foe? . . .\n Repulse he fear'd not, but he fear'd rebuke,\n And sham'd to tell him of his overthrow.\n There dwelt a dread Enchantress in a nook\n Obscure; old help-mate she to him had been,\n Lending her aid in many a secret sin;\n And there, for counsel, now his way he took.\n\n 3.\n She was a woman whose unlovely youth,\n Even like a cankered rose, which none will cull,\n Had withered on the stalk; her heart was full\n Of passions which had found no natural scope,\n Feelings which there had grown but ripened not;\n {112}\n Desires unsatisfied, abortive hope,\n Repinings which provoked vindictive thought,\n These restless elements for ever wrought,\n Fermenting in her with perpetual stir,\n And thus her spirit to all evil mov'd;\n She hated men because they lov'd not her,\n And hated women because they were lov'd.\n And thus, in wrath and hatred and despair,\n She tempted Hell to tempt her; and resign'd\n Her body to the Demons of the Air,\n Wicked and wanton fiends who, where they will,\n Wander abroad, still seeking to do ill,\n And take whatever vacant form they find,\n Carcase of man or beast, that life hath left;\n Foul instrument for them of fouler mind.\n To these the Witch her wretched body gave,\n So they would wreak her vengeance on mankind,\n She thus at once their mistress and their slave;\n And they, to do such service nothing loth,\n Obeyed her bidding, slaves and masters both.\n\n 4.\n So from this cursed intercourse she caught\n Contagious power of mischief, and was taught\n {113}\n Such secrets as are damnable to guess.\n Is there a child whose little lovely ways\n Might win all hearts, . . . on whom his parents gaze\n Till they shed tears of joy and tenderness?\n Oh! hide him from that Witch's withering sight!\n Oh! hide him from the eye of Lorrinite!\n Her look hath crippling in it, and her curse\n All plagues which on mortality can light;\n Death is his doom if she behold, . . . or worse, . . .\n Diseases loathsome and incurable,\n And inward sufferings that no tongue can tell.\n Woe was to him, on whom that eye of hate\n Was bent; for, certain as the stroke of Fate,\n It did its mortal work; nor human arts\n Could save the unhappy wretch, her chosen prey;\n For gazing, she consum'd his vital parts,\n Eating his very core of life away.\n The wine which from yon wounded palm on high\n Fills yonder gourd, as slowly it distills,\n Grows sour at once if Lorrinite pass by.\n The deadliest worm, from which all creatures fly,\n Fled from the deadlier venom of her eye;\n The babe unborn, within its mother's womb,\n Started and trembled when the Witch came nigh,\n {114}\n And in the silent chambers of the tomb\n Death shuddered her unholy tread to hear,\n And, from the dry and mouldering bones, did fear\n Force a cold sweat, when Lorrinite was near.\n\n 5.\n Power made her haughty: by ambition fir'd,\n Ere long to mightier mischiefs she aspir'd.\n The Calis, who o'er Cities rule unseen,\n Each in her own domain a Demon Queen,\n And there ador'd with blood and human life,\n They knew her, and in their accurst employ\n She stirr'd up neighbouring states to mortal strife.\n Sani, the dreadful God, who rides abroad\n Upon the King of the Ravens, to destroy\n The offending sons of men, when his four hands\n Were weary with their toil, would let her do\n His work of vengeance upon guilty lands;\n And Lorrinite, at his commandment, knew\n When the ripe earthquake should be loos'd, and where\n To point its course. And in the baneful air\n The pregnant seeds of death he bade her strew,\n All deadly plagues and pestilence to brew.\n The Locusts were her army, and their bands,\n {115}\n Where'er she turn'd her skinny finger, flew;\n The floods in ruin roll'd at her commands;\n And when, in time of drought, the husbandman\n Beheld the gathered rain about to fall,\n Her breath would drive it to the desert sands.\n While in the marshes parch'd and gaping soil,\n The rice-roots by the searching Sun were dried;\n And in lean groupes, assembled at the side\n Of the empty tank, the cattle dropt and died;\n And Famine, at her bidding, wasted wide\n The wretched land; till, in the public way,\n Promiscuous where the dead and dying lay,\n Dogs fed on human bones in the open light of day.\n\n 6.\n Her secret cell the accursed Arvalan,\n In quest of vengeance, sought, and thus began.\n Mighty mother! mother wise!\n Revenge me on my enemies.\n\n LORRINITE.\n Com'st thou, son, for aid to me?\n Tell me who have injur'd thee,\n Where they are, and who they be;\n {116}\n Of the Earth, or of the Sea,\n Or of the aerial company?\n Earth, nor Sea, nor Air is free\n From the powers who wait on me,\n And my tremendous witchery.\n\n ARVALAN.\n She for whom so ill I sped,\n Whom my Father deemeth dead,\n Lives, for Marriataly's aid\n From the water sav'd the maid.\n In hatred I desire her still,\n And in revenge would have my will.\n A Deveta with, wings of blue,\n And sword whose edge even now I rue,\n In a Ship of Heaven on high,\n Pilots her along the sky.\n Where they voyage thou canst tell,\n Mistress of the mighty spell.\n\n 7.\n At this the Witch, through shrivell'd lips and thin,\n Sent forth a sound half-whistle and half-hiss.\n Two winged Hands came in,\n {117}\n Armless and bodyless,\n Bearing a globe of liquid crystal, set\n In frame as diamond bright, yet black as jet.\n A thousand eyes were quench'd in endless night,\n To form that magic globe; for Lorrinite\n Had, from their sockets, drawn the liquid sight,\n And kneaded it, with re-creating skill,\n Into this organ of her mighty will.\n Look in yonder orb, she cried,\n Tell me what is there descried.\n\n ARVALAN.\n A mountain top, in clouds of light\n Envelop'd, rises on my sight;\n Thence a cataract rushes down,\n Hung with many a rainbow crown;\n Light and clouds conceal its head,\n Below, a silver Lake is spread;\n Upon its shores a Bower I see,\n Fit home for blessed company.\n See they come forward, . . . one, two, three, . . .\n The last a Maiden, . . . it is she!\n The foremost shakes his wings of blue,\n 'Tis he whose sword even yet I rue;\n {118}\n And in that other one I know\n The visage of my deadliest foe.\n Mother, let thy magic might\n Arm me for the mortal fight;\n Helm and shield and mail afford,\n Proof against his dreaded sword.\n Then will I invade their seat,\n Then shall vengeance be compleat.\n\n LORRINITE.\n Spirits, who obey my will,\n Hear him, and his wish fulfill.\n\n 8.\n So spake the mighty one, nor farther spell\n Needed. Anon a sound, like smother'd thunder,\n Was heard, slow rolling under;\n The solid pavement of the cell\n Quak'd, heav'd, and cleft asunder,\n And, at the feet of Arvalan display'd,\n Helmet and mail and shield and scymitar were laid.\n\n 9.\n The Asuras, often put to flight,\n {119}\n And scattered in the fields of light,\n By their foes' celestial might,\n Forged this enchanted armour for the fight.\n 'Mid fires intense did they anneal,\n In mountain furnaces, the quivering steel,\n Till trembling through each deepening hue,\n It settled in a midnight blue;\n Last they cast it, to aslake,\n In the penal icy lake.\n Then, they consign'd it to the Giant brood;\n And, while they forged the impenetrable arms,\n The Evil Powers, to oversee them, stood,\n And there imbued\n The work of Giant strength with magic charms.\n Foul Arvalan, with joy, survey'd\n The crescent sabre's cloudy blade,\n With deeper joy the impervious mail,\n The shield and helmet of avail.\n Soon did he himself array,\n And bade her speed him on his way.\n\n 10.\n Then she led him to the den,\n Where her chariot, night and day,\n {120}\n Stood harness'd, ready for the way.\n Two Dragons, yok'd in adamant, convey\n The magic car; from either collar sprung\n An adamantine rib, which met in air,\n O'er-arch'd, and crost, and bent diverging there,\n And firmly in its arc upbore,\n Upon their brazen necks, thereat of power.\n Arvalan mounts the car, and in his hand\n Receives the magic reins from Lorrinite;\n The dragons, long obedient to command,\n Their ample sails expand;\n Like steeds well-broken to fair lady's hand,\n They feel the reins of might,\n And up the northern sky begin their flight.\n\n 11.\n Son of the Wicked, doth thy soul delight\n To think its hour of vengeance now is nigh?\n Lo! where the far-off light\n Of Indra's palace flashes on his sight,\n And Meru's heavenly summit shines on high,\n With clouds of glory bright,\n Amid the dark-blue sky.\n Already, in his hope, doth he espy\n {121}\n Himself secure in mail of tenfold charms,\n Ereenia writhing from the magic blade,\n The Father sent to bear his Curse, . . . the Maid\n Resisting vainly in his impious arms.\n\n 12.\n Ah, Sinner! whose anticipating soul\n Incurs the guilt even when the crime is spar'd!\n Joyous toward Meru's summit on he far'd,\n While the twin Dragons, rising as he guides,\n With steady flight, steer northward for the pole.\n Anon, with irresistible controul,\n Force mightier far than his arrests their course;\n It wrought as though a Power unseen had caught\n Their adamantine yokes to drag them on.\n Straight on they bend their way, and now, in vain,\n Upward doth Arvalan direct the rein!\n The rein of magic might avails no more;\n Bootless its strength against that unseen Power\n Which, in their mid career,\n Hath seiz'd the Chariot and the Charioteer.\n With hands resisting, and down-pressing feet\n Upon their hold insisting,\n He struggles to maintain his difficult seat.\n {122}\n Seeking in vain with that strange Power to vie,\n Their doubled speed the affrighted Dragons try.\n Forced in a stream from whence was no retreat,\n Strong as they are, behold, them whirled along,\n Headlong, with useless pennons, through the sky.\n\n 13.\n What power was that, which, with resistless might\n Foil'd the dread magic thus of Lorrinite?\n 'Twas all-commanding Nature . . They were here\n Within the sphere of the adamantine rocks\n Which gird Mount Meru round, as far below\n That heavenly height where Ganges hath its birth\n Involv'd in clouds and light,\n So far above its roots of ice and snow.\n On . . on they roll, . . rapt headlong they roll on; . .\n The lost canoe, less rapidly than this,\n Down the precipitous stream is whirl'd along\n To the brink of Niagara's dread abyss.\n On . . on . . they roll, and now, with shivering shock,\n Are dash'd against the rock that girds the Pole.\n Down from his shatter'd mail the unhappy Soul\n Is dropt, . . ten thousand thousand fathoms down, . . .\n Till in an ice-rift, 'mid the eternal snow,\n {123}\n Foul Arvalan is stopt. There let him howl,\n Groan there, . . and there, with unavailing moan,\n For aid on his Almighty Father call.\n All human sounds are lost\n Amid those deserts of perpetual frost,\n Old Winter's drear domain,\n Beyond the limits of the living World,\n Beyond Kehama's reign.\n Of utterance and of motion soon bereft,\n Frozen to the ice-rock, there behold him lie,\n Only the painful sense of Being left,\n A Spirit who must feel, and cannot die,\n Bleaching and bare beneath the polar sky.\n\n\n\n XII.\n THE SACRIFICE COMPLEATED.\n\n {124}\n\n 1.\n O ye who, by the Lake\n On Meru Mount, partake\n The joys which Heaven hath destin'd for the blest,\n Swift, swift, the moments fly,\n The silent hours go by,\n And ye must leave your dear abode of rest.\n O wretched Man, prepare\n Again thy Curse to bear!\n Prepare, O wretched Maid, for farther woe!\n The fatal hour draws near,\n When Indra's heavenly sphere\n Must own the Tyrant of the World below.\n {125}\n To-day the hundredth Steed,\n At Seeva's shrine, must bleed,\n The dreadful sacrifice is full to-day;\n Nor man nor God hath power,\n At this momentous hour,\n Again to save the Swerga from his sway.\n Fresh woes, O Maid divine,\n Fresh trials must be thine;\n And what must thou, Ladurlad, yet endure!\n But let your hearts be strong,\n And bear ye bravely on,\n For Providence is good, and virtue is secure.\n\n 2.\n They, little deeming that the fatal day\n Was come, beheld where, through the morning sky,\n A Ship of Heaven drew nigh.\n Onward they watch it steer its steady flight;\n Till, wondering, they espy\n Old Casyapa, the Sire of Gods, alight.\n But, when Ereenia saw the Sire appear,\n At that unwonted and unwelcome sight\n His heart receiv'd a sudden shock of fear:\n Thy presence doth its doleful tidings tell,\n {126}\n O Father! cried the startled Glendoveer,\n The dreadful hour is near! I know it well!\n Not for less import would the Sire of Gods\n Forsake his ancient and august abodes.\n\n 3.\n Even so: serene the immortal Sire replies;\n Soon like an earthquake will ye feel the blow\n Which consummates the mighty sacrifice:\n And this World, and its Heaven, and all therein\n Are then Kehama's. To the second ring\n Of these seven Spheres, the Swerga-King,\n Even now, prepares for flight, . .\n Beyond the circle of the conquer'd world,\n Beyond the Rajah's might.\n Ocean, that clips this inmost of the Spheres,\n And girds it round with everlasting roar,\n Set like a gem appears\n Within that beading shore.\n Thither fly all the Sons of heavenly race:\n I, too, forsake mine ancient dwelling-place.\n And now, O Child and Father, ye must go,\n Take up the burthen of your woe,\n And wander once again below.\n {127}\n With patient heart hold onward to the end, . . .\n Be true unto yourselves, and bear in mind\n That every God is still the good Man's friend;\n And they, who suffer bravely, save mankind.\n\n 4.\n Oh tell me, cried Ereenia, for from thee\n Nought can be hidden, when the end will be!\n\n 5.\n Seek not to know, old Casyapa replied,\n What pleaseth Heaven to hide.\n Dark is the abyss of time,\n But light enough to guide your steps is given;\n Whatever weal or woe betide,\n Turn never front the way of truth aside,\n And leave the event, in holy hope, to Heaven.\n The moment is at hand, no more delay,\n Ascend the etherial bark, and go your way;\n And Ye, of heavenly nature, follow me.\n\n 6.\n The will of Heaven be done, Ladurlad cried,\n Nor more the man replied;\n {128}\n But placed his daughter in the etherial Bark,\n Then took his seat beside.\n There was no word at parting, no adieu.\n Down from that empyreal height they flew:\n One groan Ladurlad breath'd, yet uttered not,\n When, to his heart and brain\n The fiery Curse again like lightning shot.\n And now on earth, the Sire and Child alight,\n Up soar'd the Ship of Heaven, and sail'd away from sight.\n\n 7.\n O ye immortal Bowers,\n Where hitherto the Hours\n Have led their dance of happiness for aye,\n With what a sense of woe\n Do ye expect the blow,\n And see your heavenly dwellers driven away!\n Lo! where the aunnay-birds of graceful mien,\n Whose milk-white forms were seen,\n Lovely as Nymphs, your ancient trees between,\n And by your silent springs,\n With melancholy cry,\n Now spread unwilling wings;\n Their stately necks reluctant they protend,\n {129}\n And through the sullen sky,\n To other worlds, their mournful progress bend.\n The affrighted gales to-day\n O'er their beloved streams no longer play,\n The streams of Paradise have ceas'd to flow;\n The Fountain-Tree withholds its diamond shower,\n In this portentous hour, . .\n This dolorous hour, . . this universal woe.\n Where is the Palace, whose far-flashing beams,\n With streaks and streams of ever-varying light,\n Brighten'd the polar night\n Around the frozen North's extremest shore?\n Gone like a morning rainbow, . . like a dream. . .\n A star that shoots and falls, and then is seen no more.\n\n 8.\n Now! now! . . . Before the Golden Palaces,\n The Bramin strikes the inevitable hour.\n The fatal blow is given,\n That over Earth and Heaven\n Confirms the Almighty Rajah in his power.\n All evil Spirits then,\n That roam the World about,\n Or wander through the sky,\n {130}\n Set up a joyful shout.\n The Asuras and the Giants join the cry,\n The damn'd in Padalon acclaim\n Their hop'd Deliverer's name;\n Heaven trembles with the thunder-drowning sound;\n Back starts affrighted Ocean from the shore,\n And the adamantine vaults, and brazen floor\n Of Hell, are shaken with the roar.\n Up rose the Rajah through the conquer'd sky,\n To seize the Swerga for his proud abode;\n Myriads of evil Genii round him fly,\n As royally, on wings of winds, he rode,\n And scal'd high Heaven, triumphant like a God.\n\n\n\nNOTES.\n\n{133}\n\n  _Calmly she took her seat_.--I. p. 8.\n\nSHE, says Bernier, whom I saw burn herself, when I parted from\n_Surat_ to travel into _Persia_, in the presence of Monsieur _Chardin_\nof _Paris_, and of many _English_ and _Dutch_, was of a middle age,\nand not unhandsome. To represent unto you the undaunted cheerfulness\nthat appeared in her countenance, the resolution with which she\nmarched, washed herself, spoke to the people; the confidence with\nwhich she looked upon us, viewed her little cabin, made up of very dry\nmillet-straw and small wood, went into this cabin, and sat down upon\nthe pile, and took her husband's head into her lap, and a torch into\nher own hand, and kindled the cabin, whilst I know not how many\n_Brahmans_ were busy in kindling the fire round about: To represent to\nyou, I say, all this as it ought, is {134} not possible for me; I can\nat present scarce believe it myself, though it be but a few days since\nI saw it.\n\n\n  _They strip her ornaments away._--I. p. 8.\n\nShe went out again to the river, and taking up some water in her\nhands, muttered some prayers, and offered it to the sun. All her\nornaments were then taken from her; and her armlets were broken, and\nchaplets of white flowers were put upon her neck and hands. Her hair\nwas tucked up with five combs; and her forehead was marked with clay\nin the same manner as that of her husband--STAVORINUS.\n\n\n  _Around her neck they leave_\n  _The marriage-knot alone._--I. p. 8.\n\nWhen the time for consummating the marriage is come, they light the\nfire Homam with the wood of Ravasiton. The Bramin blesses the former,\nwhich being done, the bridegroom takes three handfuls of rice, and\nthrows it on the bride's head, who does the same to him. Afterwards\nthe bride's father clothes her in a dress according to his condition,\nand washes the bridegroom's feet; the bride's mother observing to pour\nout the water. This being done, the father puts his daughter's hand in\nhis own, puts water into it, some pieces of money, {135} and, giving\nit to the bridegroom, says, at the same time, I have no longer any\nthing to do with you, and I give you up to the power of another. The\n_Tali_, which is a ribbon with a golden head hanging at it, is held\nready; and, being shewn to the company, some prayers and blessings are\npronounced; after which the bridegroom takes it, and hangs it about\nthe bride's neck. This knot is what particularly secures his\npossession of her; for, before he had had the _Tali_ on, all the rest\nof the ceremonies might have been made to no purpose; for it has\nsometimes happened, that, when the bridegroom was going to fix it on,\nthe bride's father has discovered his not being satisfied with the\nbridegroom's gift, when another, offering more, has carried off the\nbride with her father's consent. But when once the _Tali_ is put on,\nthe marriage is indissoluble; and, whenever the husband dies, the\n_Tali_ is burnt along with him, to shew that the marriage bands are\nbroke. Besides these particular ceremonies, the people have notice of\nthe wedding by a _Pandal_, which is raised before the bride's door\nsome days before. The whole concludes with an entertainment which the\nbride's father gives to the common friends; and during this festivity,\nwhich continues five days, alms are given to the poor, and the fire\nHomam is kept in. The seventh day, the new-married couple set out for\nthe {136} bridegroom's house, whither they frequently go by\ntorch-light. The bride and bridegroom are carried in a sedan, pass\nthrough the chief streets of the city, and are accompanied by their\nfriends, who are either on horseback or mounted on elephants.--A.\nROGER.\n\n\n  _They force her on, they bind her to the dead_.--I. p. 9.\n\n'Tis true, says Bernier, that I have seen some of them, which, at the\nsight of the pile and the fire, appeared to have some apprehension,\nand that, perhaps, would have gone back. Those demons, the Bramins,\nthat are there with their great sticks, astonish them, and hearten\nthem up, or even thrust them in; as I have seen it done to a young\nwoman that retreated five or six paces from the pile, and to another,\nthat was much disturbed when, she saw the fire take hold of her\nclothes, these executioners thrusting her in with their long poles.\n\nAt Lahor, I saw a very handsome and a very young woman burnt; I\nbelieve she was not above twelve years of age. This poor unhappy\ncreature appeased rather dead than alive when she came near the pile;\nshe shook and wept bitterly. Meanwhile, three or four of these\nexecutioners, the Bramins, together with an old hag that held her\nunder the arm, thrust her on, and made her sit down upon the wood;\nand, lest she should run away, {137} they tied her legs and hands; and\nso they burnt her alive. I had enough to do to contain myself for\nindignation.--BERNIER.\n\nPietro Della Valle conversed with a widow, who was about to burn\nherself by her own choice. She told him, that, generally speaking,\nwomen were not forced to burn themselves; but sometimes, among people\nof rank, when a young woman, who was handsome, was left a widow, and\nin danger of marrying again, (which is never practised among them,\nbecause of the confusion and disgrace which are inseparable from such\na thing,) or of falling into other irregularities, then, indeed, the\nrelations of the husband, if they are at all tenacious of the honour\nof the family, compel her to burn herself, whether she likes it or no,\nmerely to prevent the inconveniences which might take place.\n\nDellon also, whom I consider as one of the best travellers in the\nEast, expressly asserts, that widows are burnt there \"_de gr\u00e9, ou de\nforce. L'on n'en voit que trop qui apr\u00e9s avoir desir\u00e9 et demand\u00e9 la\nmort avec un courage intrepide, et apr\u00e9s avoir obtenu et achet\u00e9 la\npermission de se br\u00fbler, ont trembl\u00e9 \u00e0 l\u00e0 veu\u00eb du bucher, se sont\nrepenties, mais trop tard, de leur imprudence, et ont fait d'inutiles\nefforts pour se retracter. Mais lorsque cela arrive, bien loin que les\nBramenes soient touch\u00e9s_ {138} _d'aucune piet\u00e9, ils lient cruellement\nces malheureuses, et les br\u00fblent par force, sans avoir aucun egard \u00e0\nleurs plaintes, ni \u00e0 leurs cris._\"--Tom. i. p. 138.\n\nIt would be easy to multiply authorities upon this point. Let it\nsuffice to mention one important historical fact: When the great\nAlboquerque had established himself it Goa, he forbade these accursed\nsacrifices, the women extolled him for it as their benefactor and\ndeliverer, (_Commentarios de Alb._ ii. 20,) and no European in India\nwas ever so popular, or so revered by the natives. Yet, if we are to\nbelieve the anti-missionares, none but fools, fanatics, and pretenders\nto humanity, would wish to deprive the Hindoo women of the right of\nburning themselves! \"It may be useful (says Colonel Mark Wilks,) to\nexamine the reasonableness of interfering with the most exceptionable\nof all their institutions. It has been thought an abomination not to\nbe tolerated, that a widow should immolate herself on the funeral pile\nof her deceased husband. But what judgement should we form of the\nHindoo, who (if any of our institutions admitted the parallel) should\n_forcibly_ pretend to stand between a Christian and the hope of\neternal salvation? And shall we not hold him to be a driveller in\npolitics and morals, a fanatic in religion, and a pretender in\nhumanity, who would forcibly wrest this hope from the Hindoo {139}\nwidow?\"--_Historical Sketches of the South of India_, vol. i. p. 499.\n\nSuch opinions, and such language, may safely be left to the\nindignation and pity which they cannot fail to excite. I shall only\nexpress my astonishment, that any thing so monstrous, and so miserably\nfutile, should have proceeded from a man of learning, great good\nsense, and general good feelings, as Colonel Wilks evidently appears\nto be.\n\n\n  _One drops, another plunges in._--I. p. 10.\n\nWhen Bernier was passing from Amad-Avad to Agra, there came news to\nhim in a borough, where the caravan rested under the shade, (staying\nfor the cool of the evening to march on their journey,) that a woman\nwas then upon the point of burning herself with the body of her\nhusband. I presently rose, says he, and ran to the place where it was\nto be done, which was a great pit, with a pile of wood raised in it,\nwhereon I saw laid a dead corpse, and a woman, which, at a distance,\nseemed to me pretty fair, sitting near it on the same pile, besides\nfour or five Bramins, putting the fire to it from all sides; five\nwomen of a middle age, and well enough dressed, holding one another by\nthe hand, and dancing about the pit, and a great crowd of people, men\nand women, looking {140} on. The pile of wood was presently all on\nfire, because store of oil and butter had been thrown upon it: and I\nsaw, at the same time, through the flames, that the fire took hold of\nthe clothes of the woman, that were imbued with well-scented oils,\nmingled with powder of sandal and saffron. All this I saw, but\nobserved not that the woman was at all disturbed; yea, it was said,\nthat she had been heard to pronounce, with great force, these two\nwords, _five_, _two_, to signify, according to the opinion of those\nthat hold the soul's transmigration, that this was the _fifth_ time\nshe had burnt herself with the same husband, and that there remained\nbut two more for perfection; as if she had at that time this\nremembrance, or some prophetical spirit. But here ended not this\ninfernal tragedy: I thought it was only by way of ceremony that these\nfive women sung and danced about the pit; but I was altogether\nsurprised when I saw, that the flame having taken hold of the clothes\nof one of them, she cast herself, with her head foremost, into the\npit; and that after her, another, being overcome by the flame and the\nsmoke, did the like; and my astonishment redoubled afterwards, when I\nsaw that the remaining three took one another again by the hand,\ncontinued their dance without any apparent fear; and that at length\nthey precipitated themselves, one after another, into the fire, as\ntheir {141} companions had done. I learnt that these had been five\nslaves, who, having seen their mistress extremely afflicted at the\nsickness of her husband, and heard her promise him, that she would not\nsurvive him, but burn herself with him, were so touched with\ncompassion and tenderness towards this their mistress, that they\nengaged themselves in a promise to follow her in her resolution, and\nto burn themselves with her.--BERNIER.\n\nThis excellent traveller relates an extraordinary circumstance which\noccurred at one of these sacrifices. A woman was engaged in some\nlove-intrigues with a young Mahommedan, her neighbour, who was a\ntailor, and could play finely upon the tabor. This woman, in the hopes\nshe had of marrying this young man, poisoned her husband, and\npresently came away to tell the tailor, that it was time to be gone\ntogether, as they had projected, or else she should be obliged to burn\nherself. The young man, fearing lest he might be entangled in a\nmischievous business, flatly refused her. The woman, not at all\nsurprised at it, went to her relations, and advertised them of the\nsudden death of her husband, and openly protested that she would not\nsurvive him, but burn herself with him. Her kindred, well satisfied\nwith so generous a resolution, and the great honour she did to the\nwhole family, presently had a pit made and filled with wood, exposing\n{142} the corpse upon it, and kindling the fire. All being prepared,\nthe woman goes to embrace and bid farewell to all her kindred that\nwere there about the pit, among whom was also the tailor, who had been\ninvited to play upon the tabor that day, with many others of that sort\nof men, according to the custom of the country. This fury of a woman\nbeing also come to this young man, made sign as if she would bid him\nfarewell with the rest; but, instead of gently embracing him, she\ntaketh him with all her force about his collar, pulls him to the pit,\nand tumbleth him, together with herself, into the ditch, where they\nboth were soon dispatched.--BERNIER.\n\nThe Hindoos sometimes erect a chapel on the spot where one of these\nsacrifices has been performed, both on account of the soul of the\ndeceased, and as a trophy of her virtue. I remember to have seen one\nof these places, where the spot on which the funeral pile had been\nerected was inclosed and covered with bamboos, formed into a kind of\nbower planted with flowering creepers. The inside was set round with\nflowers, and at one end, there was an image.--CRAWFURD.\n\nSome of the Yogees, who smear themselves with ashes, use none but what\nthey collect from funeral piles,--human ashes! PIETRO DELLA VALLE.\n\nFrom a late investigation, it appears, that the number {143} of women\nwho sacrifice themselves within thirty miles round Calcutta every\nyear, is, on an average, upwards of two hundred. The Pundits have\nalready been called on to produce the sanction of their Shasters for\nthis custom. The passages exhibited are vague and general in their\nmeaning, and differently interpreted by the same casts. Some sacred\nverses commend the practice, but none command it; and the Pundits\nrefer once more to _custom_. They have, however, intimated, that if\ngovernment will pass a regulation, amercing by fine every Brahmin who\nattends a burning, or every Zemindar who permits him to attend it, the\npractice cannot possibly long continue; for that the ceremony,\nunsanctified by the presence of the priests, will lose its dignity and\nconsequence in the eyes of the people.\n\nThe civilized world may expect soon to hear of the abolition of this\nopprobrium of a Christian administration, the female sacrifice; which\nhas subsisted, to our certain knowledge, since the time of Alexander\nthe Great.--CLAUDIUS BUCHANAN.\n\nThis practice, however, was manifestly unknown when the Institutes of\nMenu were written. Instructions are there given for the conduct of a\nwidow: \"Let her,\" it is said, \"emaciate her body, by living\nvoluntarily on pure flowers, roots, and fruit; but let her not, when\nher {144} lord is deceased, even pronounce the name of another man.\nLet her continue till death forgiving all injuries, performing harsh\nduties, avoiding every sensual pleasure, and cheerfully practising the\nincomparable rules of virtue, which have been followed by such women\nas were devoted to one only husband. Many thousands of Brahmins,\nhaving avoided sensuality from their early youth, and having left no\nissue in their families, have ascended nevertheless to heaven; and,\nlike those abstemious men, a virtuous wife ascends to heaven, though\nshe have no child, if, after the decease of her lord, she devote\nherself to pious austerity: but a widow, who, from a wish to bear\nchildren, slights her deceased husband by marrying again, brings\ndisgrace on herself here below, and shall be excluded from the seat of\nher lord.\"--_Inst. of Menu_, ch. 5, 157-161.\n\nSecond marriages were permitted to men.--_Ibid_. 167, 8-9.\n\n\n  _Lo! Arvalan appears._--II. p. 11.\n\nMany believe that some souls are sent back to the spot where their\nbodies were burnt, or where their ashes are preserved, to wait there\nuntil the new bodies they are destined to occupy be ready for their\nreception. This appears to correspond with an opinion of Plato, which,\n{145} with many other tenets of that philosopher, was adopted by the\nearly Christians; and an ordinance of the Romish church is still\nextant, prohibiting having lights or making merriment in church-yards\nat night, lest they should disturb the souls that might come\nthither.--CRAWFURD.\n\nAccording to the Danish missionaries, the souls of those who are\nuntimely slain wander about as diabolical spectres, doing evil to\nmankind, and possessing those whom they persecute.--NIECAMP. i. 10.\n\u00a7 14.\n\nThe inhabitants of the hills near Rajamahall believe, that when God\nsends a messenger to summon a person to his presence, if the messenger\nshould mistake his object, and carry off another, he is desired by the\nDeity to take him away; but as the earthly mansion of his soul must be\ndecayed, it is destined to remain mid-way between heaven and earth,\nand never can return to the presence of God. Whoever commits homicide\nwithout a divine order, and whoever is killed by a snake, as a\npunishment for some concealed crime, will be doomed to the same state\nof wandering; and whoever hangs himself will wander eternally with a\nrope about his neck.--_Asiat. Researches_.\n\nPope Benedict XII. drew up a list of 117 heretical opinions held by\nthe Armenian Christians, which he sent to the king of\nArmenia,--instead of any other assistance, {146} when that prince\napplied to him for aid against the Mahomedans. This paper was first\npublished by Bernino, and exhibits a curious mixture of mythologies.\nOne of their opinions was, that the souls of the adult wander about in\nthe air till the day of judgment; neither hell, nor the heavenly, nor\nthe terrestrial paradise, being open to them till that day shall have\npast.\n\nDavenant, in one of his plays, speculates upon such a state of\nwandering as the lot of the soul after death:--\n\n  I must to darkness go, hover in clouds,\n  Or in remote untroubled air, silent\n  As thoughts, or what is uncreated yet;\n  Or I must rest in some cold shade, and shall\n  Perhaps ne'er see that everlasting spring\n  Of which philosophy so long has dreamt,\n  And seems rather to wish than understand.\n                    _Love and Honour._\n\nI know no other author who has so often expressed to those who could\nunderstand him, his doubts respecting a future state, and how\nburthensome he felt them.\n\n\n  _But I, all naked feeling and raw life_.--II. p. 13.\n\nBy the vital souls of those men who have committed {147} sins in the\nbody, another body, composed of _nerves_, with five sensations, in\norder to be susceptible of torment, shall certainly be assumed after\ndeath; and being intimately united with those minute nervous\nparticles, according to their distribution, they shall feel in that\nnew body the pangs inflicted in each case by the sentence of\nYama.--_Inst. of Menu_.\n\nHenry More, the Platonist, has two applicable stanzas in his Song of\nthe Soul:--\n\n   Like to a light fast lock'd in lanthorn dark,\n   Whereby by night our wary steps we guide\n   In slabby streets, and dirty channels mark,\n   Some weaker rays through the black top do glide,\n   And flusher streams, perhaps, from horny side;\n   But when we've past the peril of the way,\n   Arrived at home, and laid that case aside,--\n   The naked light how clearly doth it ray,\n  And spread its joyful beams as bright as summer's day.\n\n   Even so the soul, in this contracted state,\n   Confined to these strait instruments of sense,\n   More dull and narrowly doth operate;\n   At this hole hears,--the sight must ray from thence,--\n   Here tastes, there smells;--but when she's gone from hence,\n   {148}\n   Like naked lamp she is one shining sphere,\n   And round about has perfect cognoscence,\n   Whatever in her horizon doth appear.\n  She is one orb of sense, all eye, all airy ear.\n\nAmid the uncouth allegory, and more uncouth language, of this strange\nseries of poems, a few passages are to be found of exceeding beauty.\nMilton, who was the author's friend, had evidently read them.\n\n\n  _Undying as I am!_--II. p. 12.\n\nThe Soul is not a thing of which a man may say, it hath been, it is\nabout to be, or is to be hereafter; for it is a thing without birth;\nit is ancient, constant, and eternal, and is not to be destroyed in\nthis its mortal frame. How can the man who believeth that this thing\nis incorruptible, eternal, inexhaustible, and without birth, think\nthat he can either kill or cause it to be killed! As a man throweth\naway old garments and putteth on new, even so the Soul, having quitted\nits old mortal frames, entereth into others which are new. The weapon\ndivideth it not, the fire burneth it not, the water corrupteth it not,\nthe wind drieth it not away;--for it is indivisible, inconsumable,\nincorruptible, and is not to be dried away;--it is eternal, universal,\npermanent, immoveable; it is {149} invisible, inconceivable, and\nunalterable.--BHAGVAT GEETA.\n\n\n  _Mariataly_.--II. p. 15.\n\nMariatale, as Sonnerat spells the name, was wife of the penitent\nChamadaguini, and mother of Parassourama, who was, in part, an\nincarnation of Veeshno. This goddess, says Sonnerat, commanded the\nelements, but could not preserve that empire longer than her heart was\npure. One day, while she was collecting water out of a tank, and,\naccording to her custom, was making a bowl of earth to carry it to the\nhouse, she saw on the surface of the water, some figures of Grindovers\n(Glendoveers) which were flying over her head. Struck with their\nbeauty, her heart admitted an impure thought, and the earth of the\nbowl dissolved. From that time she was obliged to make use of an\nordinary vessel. This discovered to Chamadaguini that his wife had\ndeviated from purity; and, in the excess of his rage, he ordered his\nson to drag her to the place where criminals were executed, and to\nbehead her. The order was executed; but Parassourama was so much\nafflicted for the loss of his mother, that Chamadaguini told him to\ntake up the body, and fasten the head upon it, and repeat a prayer\n(which he taught him for that purpose) in her ear, and then his mother\n{150} would come to life again. The son ran eagerly to perform what he\nwas ordered, but, by a very singular blunder, he joined the head of\nhis mother to the body of a Parichi, who had been executed for her\ncrimes; a monstrous union, which gave to this woman the virtues of a\ngoddess, and the vices of a criminal. The goddess, becoming impure by\nsuch a mixture, was driven from her house, and committed all kinds of\ncruelties. The Deverkels, perceiving the destruction she made,\nappeased her by giving her power to cure the small-pox, and promising\nthat she should be implored for that disorder. Mariatale is the great\ngoddess of the Parias;--to honour her, they have a custom of dancing\nwith several pots of water on their heads, placed one above the other:\nThese pots are adorned with the leaves of the Margosies, a tree\nconsecrated to her.\n\n\n  _It was my hour of folly._--II. p. 13.\n\nAmong the qualities required for the proper execution of public\nbusiness, mention is made, \"That a man must be able to keep in\nsubjection his lust, his anger, his avarice, his _folly_, and his\npride.\" The folly there specified is not to be understood in the usual\nsense of the word in an European idiom, as a negative quality, or the\nmere want of sense, but as a kind of obstinately stupid {151}\nlethargy, or perverse absence of mind, in which the will is not\naltogether passive: It seems to be a weakness peculiar to Asia, for we\ncannot find a term by which to express the precise idea in the\nEuropean languages. It operates somewhat like the violent impulse of\nfear, under which men will utter falsehoods totally incompatible with\neach other, and utterly contrary to their own opinion, knowledge, and\nconviction; and, it may be added also, their inclination and\nintention.\n\nA very remarkable instance of this temporary frenzy happened lately in\nthe supreme Court of Judicature at Calcutta, where a man (not an\nidiot) swore, upon a trial, that he was no kind of relation to his\nbrother, who was then in Court, and who had constantly supported him\nfrom his infancy; and that he lived in a house by himself, for which\nhe paid the rent from his own pocket, when it was proved that he was\nnot worth a rupee, and when the person in whose house he had always\nresided stood at the bar close to him.\n\nAnother conjecture, and that exceedingly acute and ingenious, has been\nstarted upon this _folly_, that it may mean the deception which a man\npermits to be imposed on his judgment by his passions, as acts of\nrapacity and avarice are often committed by men who ascribe them to\nprudence and a just assertion of their own right; malice {152} and\nrancour pass for justice, and brutality for spirit. This opinion, when\nthoroughly examined, will very nearly tally with the former; for all\nthe passions, as well as fear, have an equal efficacy to disturb and\ndistort the mind: But to account for the _folly_ here spoken of as\nbeing the offspring of the passions, instead of drawing a parallel\nbetween it and the impulses of those passions, we must suppose the\nimpulses to act with infinitely more violence upon an Asiatic mind\nthan we can ever have seen exemplified in Europe. It is, however,\nsomething like the madness so inimitably delineated in the Hero of\nCervantes, sensible enough upon some occasions, and at the same time\ncompletely wild, and unconscious of itself upon others; and that, too,\noriginally produced by an effort of the will, though, in the end,\noverpowering and superseding its functions.--HALHED.\n\n\n  _The little songsters of the sky_\n  _Sit silent in the sultry hour._--IV. p. 29.\n\nThe tufted lark, fixed to this fruitful land, says Sonnini, speaking\nof Egypt, never forsakes it; it seems, however, that the excessive\nheat annoys him. You may see these birds, as well as sparrows, in the\nmiddle of the day, with their bills half open, and the muscles of\ntheir breasts agitated, breathing with difficulty, and as if they\npanted {153} for respiration. The instinct which induces them to\nprefer those means of subsistence which are easily obtained, and in\nabundance, although attended with some suffering, resembles the mind\nof man, whom a thirst for riches engages to brave calamities and\ndangers without number.\n\n\n  _The Watchman._--V. 35.\n\nThe watchmen are provided with no offensive weapons excepting a sling;\non the contrary, they continue the whole day standing in one single\nposition, upon a pillar of clay raised about ten feet, where they\nremain bellowing continually, that they may terrify, without hurting,\nthe birds who feed upon the crop. Every considerable field contains\nseveral such centinels, stationed at different corners, who repeat the\ncall from one to another so incessantly, that the invaders have hardly\nany opportunity of making good a livelihood in the field.\n\nThese watchmen are forced, during the rains, to erect, instead of a\nclay pillar, a scaffolding of wood as high as the crop, over which\nthey suspend a roof of straw, to shelter their naked bodies from the\nrain.--TENNANT.\n\n\n  _The Golden Palaces_.--V. 35.\n\nEvery thing belonging to the sovereign of Ava has the {154} addition\nof [Transcriber: the last letter of the word \"sho-\" is unreadable],\nor golden, annexed to it; even his majesty's person is never mentioned\nbut in conjunction with this precious metal. When a subject means to\naffirm that the king has heard any thing, he says, \"it has reached the\ngolden ears;\" he who obtained admission to the royal presence has been\nat the \"golden feet.\" The perfume of otto of roses, a nobleman observed\none day, \"was an odour grateful to the golden nose.\"--SYMES.\n\n\n  _A cloud ascending in the eastern sky_\n  _Sails slowly o'er the vale,_\n  _And darkens round, and closes in the night._--V. p. 37.\n\nAt this season of the year, it is not uncommon, towards the evening,\nto see a small black cloud rising in the eastern part of the horizon,\nand afterwards spreading itself to the north-west. This phenomenon is\nalways attended with a violent storm of wind, and flashes of the\nstrongest and most vivid lightning and heavy thunder, which is\nfollowed by rain. These storms sometimes last for half an hour or\nmore; and, when they disperse, they leave the air greatly freshened,\nand the sky of a deep, clear, and transparent blue. When they occur\nnear the full moon, the whole atmosphere is illuminated by a soft but\nbrilliant silver light, attended with gentle airs.--HODGES.\n\n{155}\n\n  _A white flag, flapping to the winds of night,_\n  _Marks where the tyger seized his human prey._--V. p. 37.\n\nIt is usual to place a small white triangular flag, fixed to a bamboo\nstaff, of ten or twelve feet long, at the place where a tyger has\ndestroyed a man. It is common for the passengers, also, each to throw\na stone, or brick, near the spot, so that, in the course of a little\ntime, a pile equal to a good waggon-load is collected. This custom, as\nwell as the fixing a rag on any particular thorn-bush, near the fatal\nspot, is in use likewise on various accounts. Many brambles may be\nseen in a day's journey, completely covered with this motley\nassemblage of remnants. The sight of the flags and piles of stones\nimparts a certain melancholy, not perhaps altogether devoid of\napprehension: They may be said to be of service in pointing out the\nplaces most frequented by tygers.--_Oriental Sports_, vol. ii. p. 22.\n\n\n  _Pollear._--V. p. 45.\n\nThe first and greatest of the sons of Sevee is Pollear: he presides\nover marriages: The Indians build no house without having first\ncarried a Pollear on the ground, which they sprinkle with oil, and\nthrow flowers on it {156} every day. If they do not invoke it before\nthey undertake any enterprise, they believe that God will make them\nforget what they wanted to undertake, and that their labour will be in\nvain. He is represented with an elephant's head, and mounted on a rat;\nbut in the pagodas they place him on a pedestal, with his legs almost\ncrossed. A rat is always put before the door of his chapel. This rat\nwas a giant, called Gudja-mouga-chourin, on whom the gods had bestowed\nimmortality, as well as great powers, which he abused, and did much\nharm to mankind. Pollear, entreated by the sages and penitents to\ndeliver them, pulled out one of his tusks, and threw it against\nGudja-mouga-chourin; the tooth entered the giant's stomach, and\noverthrew him, who immediately changed himself into a rat as large as\na mountain, and came to attack Pollear, who sprung on his back,\ntelling him, that hereafter he should ever be his carrier.\n\nThe Indians, in their adoration of this god, cross their arms, shut\nthe fist, and in this manner give themselves several blows on the\ntemples; then, but always with the arms crossed, they take hold of\ntheir ears, and make three inclinations, bending the knee; after\nwhich, with their hands joined, they address their prayers to him, and\nstrike their forehead. They have a great veneration for this deity,\nwhose image they place in all temples, streets, {157} highways, and,\nin the country, at the foot of some tree, that all the world may have\nan opportunity of invoking him before they undertake any concern, and\nthat travellers may make their adorations and offerings to him before\nthey pursue their journey.--SONNERAT.\n\n\n  _The Glendoveers_.--VI. p. 48.\n\nThis word is altered from the _Grindouvers_ of Sonnerat, who describes\nthese celestial children of Casyapa as famous for their beauty; they\nhave wings, he adds, and fly in the air with their wives. I do not\nknow whether they are the _Gandharvas_ of the English orientalists.\nThe wings with which they are attired in the poem are borrowed from\nthe neglected story of Peter Wilkins, a work of great genius. Whoever\nthe author was, his winged people are the most beautiful creatures of\nimagination that ever were devised. I copy his minute description of\nthe _graundee_, as he calls it:--Stothard has made some delightful\ndrawings of it in the Novelist's Magazine.\n\n\"She first threw up two long branches, or ribs, of the whale-bone, as\nI called it before, (and indeed for several of its properties, as\ntoughness, elasticity, and pliableness, nothing I have ever seen can\nso justly be compared to it,) which were jointed behind to the\nupper-bone of the spine, and which, when not extended, lie bent over\nthe shoulders {158} on each side of the neck forwards, from whence, by\nnearer and nearer approaches, they just meet at the lower rim of the\nbelly in a sort of point; but, when extended, they stand their whole\nlength above the shoulders, not perpendicularly, but spreading\noutwards, with a web of the softest and most pliable and spungy\nmembrane that can be imagined in the interstices between them,\nreaching from their root or joint on the back up above the hinder part\nof the head, and near half way their own length; but, when closed, the\nmembrane falls down in the middle upon the neck, like an handkerchief.\nThere are also two other ribs, rising, as it were, from the same root,\nwhich, when open, run horizontally, but not so long as the others.\nThese are filled up in the interstice between them and the upper ones\nwith the same membrane; and on the lower side of this is also a deep\nflap of the membrane, so that the arms can be either above or below it\nin flight, and are always above it when closed. This last rib, when\nshut, flaps under the upper one, and also falls down with it before to\nthe waist; but it is not joined to the ribs below. Along the whole\nspine-bone runs a strong, flat, broad, grisly cartilage, to which are\njoined several other of these ribs, all which open horizontally, and\nare filled in the interstices with the above membrane, and are jointed\nto the ribs of the person just where {159} the plane of the back\nbegins to turn towards the breast and belly; and, when shut, wrap the\nbody round to the joints on the contrary side, folding neatly one side\nover the other.\n\n\"At the lower spine are two more ribs extended horizontally when open,\njointed again to the hips, and long enough to meet the joint on the\ncontrary side cross the belly: and from the hip-joint, which is on the\noutermost edge of the hip-bone, runs a pliable cartilage quite down\nthe outside of the thigh and leg to the ancle; from which there branch\nout divers other ribs, horizontally also when open, but, when closed,\nthey encompass the whole thigh and leg, rolling inwards cross the back\nof the leg and thigh, till they reach and just cover the cartilage.\nThe interstices of these are filled up with the same membrane. From\nthe two ribs which join to the lower spine-bone, there hangs down a\nsort of short apron, very full of plaits, from hip-joint to hip-joint,\nand reaches below the buttocks, half way or more to the hams. This has\nalso several small limber ribs in it. Just upon the lower spine-joint,\nand above the apron, as I call it, there are two other long branches,\nwhich, when close, extend upon the back from the point they join at\nbelow to the shoulders, where each rib has a clasper, which, reaching\nover the shoulders, just under the fold of the uppermost branch {160}\nor ribs, hold up the two ribs flat to the back, like a V, the\ninterstices of which are filled up with the aforesaid membrane. This\nlast piece, in flight, falls down almost to the ancles, where the two\nclaspers, lapping under each leg within-side, hold it very fast; and\nthen, also, the short apron is drawn up, by the strength of the ribs\nin it, between the thighs forward, and covers as far as the rim of the\nbelly. The whole arms are covered also from the shoulders to the wrist\nwith the same delicate membrane, fastened to ribs of proportionable\ndimensions, and jointed to a cartilage on the outside in the same\nmanner as on the legs. It is very surprising to feel the difference of\nthese ribs when open and when closed; for closed, they are as pliable\nas the finest whale-bone, or more so; but, when extended, are as\nstrong and stiff as a bone. They are tapering from the roots, and are\nbroader or narrower, as best suits the places they occupy, and the\nstress they are put to, up to their points, which are almost as small\nas a hair. The membrane between them is the most elastic thing I ever\nmet with, occupying no more space, when the ribs are closed, than just\nfrom rib to rib, as flat and smooth as possible; but, when extended in\nsome postures, will dilate itself surprisingly,\n\n\"It is the most amazing thing in the world to observe the large\nexpansion of this graundee when open, and, {161} when closed, (as it\nall is in a moment, upon the party's descent,) to see it fit so close\nand compact to the body as no tailor can come up to it; and then the\nseveral ribs lie so justly disposed in the several parts, that instead\nof being, as one would imagine, a disadvantage to the shape, they make\nthe body and limbs look extremely elegant; and by the different\nadjustment of their lines on the body and limbs, the whole, to my\nfancy, somewhat resembles the dress of the old Roman warriors in their\nbuskins; and, to appearance, seems much more noble than any fictitious\ngarb I ever saw, or can frame a notion of to myself.\"\n\n\n  _Mount Himakoot._--VI. p. 49.\n\n_Dushmanta_. Say, Matali, what mountain is that which, like an evening\ncloud, pours exhilarating streams, and forms a golden zone between the\nwestern and eastern seas?\n\n_Matali_. That, O king! is the mountain of Gandharvas, named\nH\u00e9mac\u00fata: The universe contains not a more excellent place for the\nsuccessful devotion of the pious. There Casyapa, father of the\nimmortals, ruler of men, son of Marichi, who sprang from the\nself-existent, resides with his consort Aditi, blessed in holy\nretirement.--We now enter the sanctuary of him who rules {162} the\nworld, and the groves which are watered by streams from celestial\nsources.\n\n_Dushmanta_. I see with equal amazement both the pious and their awful\nretreat. It becomes, indeed, pure spirits to feed on balmy air in a\nforest blooming with trees of life; to bathe in rills dyed yellow with\nthe golden dust of the lotus, and to fortify their virtue in the\nmysterious bath; to meditate in caves, the pebbles of which are\nunblemished gems; and to restrain their passions, even though nymphs\nof exquisite beauty frolick around them. In this grove alone is\nattained the summit of true piety, to which other hermits in vain\naspire.--SACONTALA.\n\n\n  _Her death predoom'd_\n  _To that black hour of midnight, when the Moon_\n  _Hath turn'd her face away,_\n  _Unwilling to behold_\n  _The unhappy end of guilt!_--VI. p. 50.\n\nI will now speak to thee of that time in which, should a devout man\ndie, he will never return; and of that time in which, dying, he shall\nreturn again to earth.\n\nThose holy men who are acquainted with Brahm, departing this life in\nthe fiery light of day, in the bright season of the moon, within the\nsix months of the sun's northern {163} course, go unto him: but those\nwho depart in the gloomy night of the Moon's dark season, and whilst\nthe Sun is yet within the southern part of his journey, ascend for a\nwhile into the regions of the Moon, and again return to mortal birth.\nThese two, Light and Darkness, are esteemed the World's eternal ways:\nhe who walketh in the former path returneth not; whilst he who walketh\nin the latter, cometh back again upon the earth.--KREESHNA, _in the\nBhagvat Geeta_.\n\n\n  _Indra_.--VI. p. 52.\n\nThe Indian God of the visible Heavens is called _Indra_, or the King;\nand _Divespetir_, Lord of the Sky. He has the character of the Roman\n_Genius_, or chief of the Good Spirits. His consort is named _Sachi_;\nhis celestial city _Amaravati_; his palace _Vaijayanta_; his garden\n_Nandana_; his chief elephant _Airevat_; his charioteer _Matali_; and\nhis weapon _Vajra_, or the thunder-bolt. He is the regent of winds and\nshowers, and, though the East is peculiarly under his care, yet his\nOlympus is Meru, or the North Pole, allegorically represented as a\nmountain of gold and gems. He is the Prince of the beneficent\nGenii.--Sir W. JONES.\n\nA distinct idea of Indra, the King of Immortals, may be collected from\na passage in the ninth section of the Geta.\n\n{164}\n\n\"These having, through virtue, reached the mansion of the king of\n_Suras_, feast on the exquisite heavenly food of the Gods; they, who\nhave enjoyed this lofty region of SWERGA, _but_ whose virtue is\nexhausted, revisit the habitation of mortals.\"\n\nHe is the God of thunder and the five elements, with inferior Genii\nunder his command; and is conceived to govern the eastern quarter of\nthe world, but to preside, like the _Genius_ or _Agathod\u00e6mon_ of the\nancients, over the celestial bands, which are stationed on the summit\nof MERU, or the North Pole, where he solaces the Gods with nectar\nand heavenly music.\n\nThe _Cinnaras_ are the male dancers in SWERGA, or the Heaven of\nIndra, and the Apsaras are his dancing girls, answering to the fairies\nof the Persians, and to the damsels called in the Koran _hh\u00faru\nl\u00fby\u00f9n_, or, _with antelope's eyes_.--Sir W. JONES.\n\n\n  _I have seen Indra tremble at his prayer,_\n  _And at his dreadful penances turn pale._--VI. p. 52.\n\nOf such penances Mr. Halhed has produced a curious specimen:\n\n\"In the wood, Midhoo, which is on the confines of the kingdoms of\nBrege, Tarakee selected a pleasant and beautiful spot, adorned with\nverdure and blossoms, and {165} there exerted himself in penance and\nmortification, externally, with the sincerest piety, but, in reality,\nthe most malignant intention, and with the determined purpose of\noppressing the Devetas; penances such as credulity itself was\nastonished to hear; and they are here recounted:--\n\n1. For a hundred years, he held up his arms and one foot towards\nheaven, and fixed his eyes upon the sun the whole time.\n\n2. For a hundred years, he remained standing on tip-toe.\n\n3. For a hundred years more, he nourished himself with nothing but\nwater.\n\n4. For a hundred years more, he lived upon nothing but air.\n\n5. For a hundred years more, he stood and made his adorations in the\nriver.\n\n6. For a hundred years more, he made those adorations buried up to his\nneck in the earth.\n\n7. For a hundred years more, enveloped with fire.\n\n8. For a hundred years more, he stood upon his head with his feet\ntowards heaven.\n\n9. For a hundred years more, he stood upon the palm of one hand\nresting on the ground.\n\n{166}\n\n10. For a hundred years more, he hung by his hand from the branch of a\ntree.\n\n11. For a hundred years more, he hung from a tree with his head\ndownwards.\n\nWhen he at length came to a respite from these severe mortifications,\na radiant glory encircled the devotee, and a flame of fire, arising\nfrom his head, began to consume the whole world.\"--_From the Seeva\nPooraun_, MAURICE's _History of Hindostan_.\n\nYou see a pious Yogi, motionless as a pollard, holding his thick bushy\nhair, and fixing his eyes on the solar orb. Mark--his body is half\ncovered with a white ant's edifice made of raised clay; the skin of a\nsnake supplies the place of his sacerdotal thread, and part of it\ngirds his loins; a number of knotty plants encircle and wound his\nneck, and surrounding birds' nests almost conceal his shoulders.\n\n_Dushmanta_. I bow to a man of his austere devotion.--SACONTALA.\n\n\n  _That even Seeva's self,_\n  _The Highest, cannot grant, and be secure._--VI. p. 52.\n\nIt will be seen from the following fable, that Seeva had once been\nreduced to a very humiliating employment by one of Kehama's\npredecessors:\n\n{167}\n\n_Ravana_, by his power and infernal arts, had subjugated all the gods\nand demigods, and forced them to perform menial offices about his\nperson and household. _Indra_ made garlands of flowers to adorn him\nwithal; _Agni_ was his cook; _Surya_ supplied light by day, and\n_Chandra_ by night; _Varuna_ purveyed water for the palace; _Kuvera_\nfurnished cash. The whole _nava-graha_ (the _nine planetary_ spheres)\nsometimes arranged themselves into a ladder, by which, they serving as\nsteps, the tyrant ascended his throne: _Brahma_ (for the great gods\nwere there also; and I give this anecdote as I find it in my\nmemoranda, without any improved arrangement)--_Brahma_ was a herald,\nproclaiming the giant's titles, the day of the week, month, &c. daily\nin the palace,--a sort of speaking almanack: _Mahadeva_, (i. e.\nSeeva,) in his Avatara of _Kandeh-roo_, performed the office of\nbarber, and trimmed the giants' beards: _Vishnu_ had the honourable\noccupation of instructing and drilling the dancing and singing girls,\nand selecting the fairest for the royal bed: _Ganesa_ had the care of\nthe cows, goats, and herds; _Vayu_ swept the house; _Yama_ washed the\nlinen;--and in this manner were all the gods employed in the menial\noffices of _Ravana_, who rebuked and flogged them in default of\nindustry and attention. Nor were the female divinities exempted; for\n_Bhavani_, in her name and form of _Satni_, {168} was head Aya, or\nnurse, to Ravana's children; _Lakshmi_ and _Saraswati_ were also among\nthem, but it does not appear in what capacity.--MOOR's _Hindu\nPantheon_, p. 333.\n\nSeeva was once in danger even of annihilation: \"In passing from the\ntown of Silgut to Deonhully, says Colonel Wilks, I became accidentally\ninformed of a sect, peculiar, as I since understand, to the\nnorth-eastern parts of Mysoor, the women of which universally undergo\nthe amputation of the first joints of the third and fourth fingers of\ntheir right hands. On my arrival at Deonhully, after ascertaining that\nthe request would not give offence, I desired to see some of these\nwomen; and, the same afternoon, seven of them attended at my tent. The\nsect is a sub-division of the _Murresoo Wokul_,[1] and belongs to\nthe fourth great class of the Hindoos, viz. the Souder. Every woman of\nthe sect, previously to piercing the ears of her eldest daughter,\npreparatory to her being betrothed in marriage, must necessarily\nundergo this mutilation, which is performed by the blacksmith of the\nvillage, for a regulated fee, by a surgical process sufficiently rude.\nThe finger to be amputated is placed on a block; the blacksmith places\na chisel over the articulation of the {169} joint, and chops it off at\na single blow. If the girl to be betrothed is motherless, and the\nmother of the boy have not before been subject to the operation, it is\nincumbent on her to perform the sacrifice. After satisfying myself\nwith regard to the facts of the case, I enquired into the origin of so\nstrange a practice, and one of the women related, with great fluency,\nthe following traditionary tale, which has since been repeated to me,\nwith no material deviation, by several others of the sect:\n\nA Rachas (or giant) named _Vrica_, and in after times _Busm-aasoor_,\nor the giant of the ashes, had, by a course of austere devotion to\n_Mahadeo_ (Seeva) obtained from him the promise of whatever boon he\nshould ask. The Rachas accordingly demanded, that every person on\nwhose head he should place his right hand, might instantly be reduced\nto ashes; and Mahadeo conferred the boon, without suspicion of the\npurpose for which it was designed.\n\nThe Rachas no sooner found himself possessed of this formidable power,\nthan he attempted to use it for the destruction of his benefactor.\nMahadeo fled, the Rachas pursued, and followed the fugitive so closely\nas to chace him into a duck grove; where Mahadeo, changing his form\nand bulk, concealed himself in the centre of a fruit, then called\n_tunda pundoo_, but since named _linga_ {170} _tunda_, from the\nresemblance which its kernel thenceforward assumed to the _ling_, the\nappropriate emblem of Mahadeo.\n\nThe Rachas having lost sight of Mahadeo, enquired of a husbandman, who\nwas working in the adjoining field, whether he had seen the fugitive,\nand what direction he had taken. The husbandman, who had attentively\nobserved the whole transaction, fearful of the future resentment of\nMahadeo, and equally alarmed for the present vengeance of the giant,\nanswered aloud, that he had seen no fugitive, but pointed, at the same\ntime, with the little finger of his right hand, to the place of\nMahadeo's concealment.\n\nIn this extremity,[2] Vishnou descended, in the form of a\nbeautiful damsel, to the rescue of Mahadeo. The Rachas became\ninstantly enamoured;--the damsel was a _pure_ Brahmin, and might not\nbe approached by the _unclean_ Rachas. By degrees she appeared to\nrelent; and, as a previous condition to farther advances, enjoined the\nperformance of his ablutions in a neighbouring pool. After these were\nfinished, she prescribed, as a farther purification, the performance\nof the _Sundia_,--a ceremony in which the right hand is successively\napplied to the breast, to the crown of the head, and to other parts of\nthe body. {171} The Rachas, thinking only of love, and forgetful of\nthe powers of his right hand, performed the _Sundia_, and was himself\nreduced to ashes.\n\nMahadeo now issued from the _linga tunda_, and, after the proper\nacknowledgments for his deliverance, proceeded to discuss the guilt of\nthe treacherous husbandman, and determined on the loss of the finger\nwith which he had offended, as the proper punishment of his crime.\n\nThe wife of the husbandman, who had just arrived at the field with\nfood for her husband, hearing this dreadful sentence, threw herself at\nthe feet of Mahadeo. She represented the certain ruin of her family,\nif her husband should be disabled for some months from performing the\nlabours of the farm, and besought the Deity to accept two of her\nfingers, instead of one from her husband. Mahadeo, pleased with so\nsincere a proof of conjugal affection, accepted the exchange, and\nordained, that her female posterity, in all future generations, should\nsacrifice two fingers at his temple, as a memorial of the transaction,\nand of their exclusive devotion to the God of the Ling.\n\nThe practice is, accordingly, confined to the supposed, posterity of\nthis single woman, and is not common to the whole sect of\nMurresoo-Wokul. I ascertained the actual number of families who\nobserved this practice in three {172} successive districts through\nwhich I afterwards passed, and I conjecture that, within the limits of\nMisoor, they may amount to about two thousand houses.\n\nThe Hill of _Sectee_, in the talook of Colar, where the giant was\ndestroyed, is (according to this tradition) formed of the ashes of\nBusmaa-soor: It is held in particular veneration by this sect, as the\nchief seat of their appropriate sacrifice; and the fact of its\ncontaining little or no moisture, is held to be a miraculous proof\nthat the ashes of the giant continue to absorb the most violent and\ncontinued rain. This is a remarkable example of easy credulity. I have\nexamined the mountain, which is of a sloping form, and composed of\ncoarse granite.--_Hist. Sketches of the South of India_, vol. i. p.\n442, note.\n\n\n  _The Ship of Heaven._--VI. p. 56.\n\nI have converted the _Vimana_, or self-moving Car of the Gods, into a\nShip. Capt. Wilford has given the history of its invention,--and, what\nis more curious, has attempted to settle the geography of the story:\n\n\"A most pious and venerable sage, named RISHI'CE'SA, being very far\nadvanced in years, had resolved to visit, before he died, all the\nfamed places of pilgrimage; and, having performed his resolution, he\nbathed at last in the sacred water of the _Ca'li_, where he observed\nsome {173} fishes engaged in amorous play, and restating on their\nnumerous progeny, which would sport like then in the stream, he\nlamented the improbability of leaving any children: but, since he\nmight possibly be a father, even at his great age, he went immediately\nto the king of that country, HIRANYAVERNA, who had fifty daughters,\nand demanded one of them in marriage. So strange a demand gave the\nprince great uneasiness: yet he was unwilling to incur the displeasure\nof a saint, whose imprecations he dreaded; he, therefore, invoked\n_Heri_, or _Vishnu_; to inspire him with a wise answer, and told the\nhoar philosopher, that he should marry any one of his daughters, who,\nof her own accord, should fix on him as her bridegroom. The sage,\nrather disconcerted, left the palace; but, calling to mind the two\nsons of ASWINI, he hastened to their terrestrial abode, and\nrequested that they would bestow on him both youth and beauty: they\nimmediately conducted him to _Abhimatada_, which we suppose to be\n_Abydus_, in Upper _Egypt_; and, when he had bathed in the pool of\n_Rupayauvana_, he was restored to the flower of his age with the\ngraces and charms of CA'MA'DE'VA. On his return to the palace, he\nentered the secret apartments, called _antahpura_, where the fifty\nprincesses were assembled: and they were all so transported with the\nvision of more than human beauty, {174} that they fell into an\necstacy, whence the place was afterwards named _Mohast-han_, or\n_Mohana_, and is, possibly, the same with _Mohannan_. They no sooner\nhad recovered from their trance, than each of them exclaimed, that she\nwould be his bride; and their altercation having brought\nHIRANYAVERNA into their apartment, he terminated the contest by\ngiving them all in marriage to RISHICE'SA, who became the father of\na hundred sons; and, when he succeeded to the throne, built the city\nof _Suc-haverddhana_, framed _vim\u00e2nas_, or celestial, self-moving\ncars, in which he visited the gods, and made gardens, abounding in\ndelights, which rivalled the bowers of INDRA; but, having granted\nthe desire, which he formed at _Matoyasangama_, or the place where the\nfish were assembled, he resigned the kingdom to his eldest son\nHIRANYAVRIDDHA, and returned, in his former shape, to the banks of\nthe Ca'li, where he closed his days in devotion.--WILFORD. _Asiatic\nResearches_.\n\n_Dushmanta_. In what path of the winds are we now journeying?\n\n_Matali_. This is the way which leads along the triple river, heaven's\nbrightest ornament, and causes yon luminaries to roll in a circle with\ndiffused beams: it is the course of a gentle breeze which supports the\nfloating {175} forms of the gods; and this path was the second step of\nVishnu when he confounded the proud Bali.\n\n* * *\n\n_Dushmanta_. The car itself instructs me that we are moving over\nclouds pregnant with showers; for the circumference of its wheels\ndisperses pellucid water.\n\n* * *\n\n_Dushmanta_. These chariot wheels yield no sound; no dust arises from\nthem, and the descent of the car gave me no shock.\n\n_Matali_. Such is the difference, O King! between thy car and that of\nIndra.--SACONTALA.\n\n_And ending thus where they began_, &c.--VII. p. 66.\n\nIt has been supposed that the perpetual lamps, which were at one time\nbelieved to have been found in certain sepulchres, were kept burning\nby a similar process. For the lamp, it was argued, being hermetically\nclosed, so that no smoke could escape, the smoke was condensed into\nits original liquid form; and thus the liquor which fed the flame\npassing into smoke, and the smoke again into the liquor, the flame was\ncontinually kept up. There still remained a difficulty about the wick;\nsome supposed that this was made of threads of gold inconceivably\nfine: others, with less expense of fancy, said a wick of {176}\nasbestos would answer the purpose.--FEYJOO. _Theatro Critico_, _T_.\n4. _Disc_. 3. \u00a7 v. 13.\n\n\n  _The Raining Tree._--VII. p. 65.\n\nThe island of _Fierro_ is one of the most considerable of the\nCanaries, and I conceive that name to be given it upon this account,\nthat its soil not affording so much as a drop of fresh water, seems to\nbe of _iron_; and, indeed, there is in this island neither river, nor\nrivulet, nor well, nor spring, save that only, towards the sea-side,\nthere are some wells; but they lie at such a distance from the city,\nthat the inhabitants can make no use thereof. But the great Preserver\nand Sustainer of all, remedies this inconvenience by a way so\nextraordinary, that a man will be forced to sit down and acknowledge\nthat he gives in this an undeniable demonstration of his goodness and\ninfinite providence,\n\nFor, in the midst of the island, there is a tree, which is the only\none of its kind, inasmuch as it hath no resemblance to those mentioned\nby us in this relation, nor to any other known to us in Europe. The\nleaves of it are long and narrow, and continue in a constant verdure,\nwinter and summer; and its branches are covered with a cloud, which is\nnever dispelled, but resolved into a moisture, which causes to fall\nfrom its leaves a very clear water, {177} and that in such abundance,\nthat the cisterns, which are placed at the foot of the tree to receive\nit, are never empty, but contain enough to supply both men and\nbeasts.--MANDELSLO.\n\nFeyjoo denies the existence of any such tree, upon the authority of P.\nTallandier, a French Jesuit, (quoted in Men. de Trevoux. 2715, art.\n97.) who visited the island. \"_Assi no dudo_,\" he adds, \"_que este\nFenix de las plantas es ten fingedo como el de las aves._\"--Theat.\nCrit. _Tom. ii. Disc_. 2. \u00a7 65. What authority is due to the\ntestimony of this French Jesuit I do not know, never having seen his\nbook; but it appears, from the undoubted evidence of Glas, that its\nexistence is believed in the Canaries, and positively affirmed by the\ninhabitants of Fierro itself.\n\n\"There are,\" says this excellent author, \"only three fountains of\nwater in the whole island, one of them is called Acof,[3] which,\nin the language of the ancient inhabitants, signifies river; a name,\nhowever, which does not seem to have been given it on account of its\nyielding much water, for in that respect it hardly deserves the same\nof a fountain. More to the northward is another called Hapio; and in\nthe middle of the island is a spring, {178} yielding a stream about\nthe thickness of a man's finger. This last was discovered in the year\n1565, and is called the Fountain of Anton Hernandez. On account of the\nscarcity of water, the sheep, goats, and swine here do not drink in\nthe summer, but are taught to dig up the roots of fern, and chew them,\nto quench their thirst. The great cattle are watered at those\nfountains, and at a place where water distils from the leaves of a\ntree. Many writers have made mention of this famous tree; some in such\na manner as to make it appear miraculous; others again deny the\nexistence of any such tree, among whom is Father Feyjoo, a modern\nSpanish author, in his _Theatro Critico_. But he, and those who agree\nwith him in this matter, are as much mistaken as they who would make\nit appear miraculous. This is the only island of all the Canaries\nwhich I have not been in; but I have sailed with natives of Hierro,\nwho, when questioned about the existence of this tree, answered in the\naffirmative.\n\nThe author of the History of the Discovery and Conquest has given us a\nparticular account of it, which I shall relate here at large. \"The\ndistrict in which this tree stands is called Tigulahe; near to which,\nand in the cliff, or steep rocky ascent that surrounds the whole\nisland, is a narrow gutter or gulley, which commences at the sea, and\ncontinues to the summit of the cliff, where it joins or {179}\ncoincides with a valley, which is terminated by the steep front of a\nrock. On the top of this rock grows a tree, called, in the language of\nthe ancient inhabitants, Garse, _i.e._ Sacred or Holy Tree, which,\nfor many years, has been preserved sound, entire, and fresh. Its\nleaves constantly distil such a quantity of water as is sufficient to\nfurnish drink to every living creature in Hierro; nature having\nprovided this remedy for the drought of the island. It is situated\nabout a league and a half from the sea. Nobody knows of what species\nit is, only that it is called Til. It is distinct from other, trees,\nand stands by itself; the circumference of the trunk is about twelve\nspans, the diameter four, and in height, from the ground to the top of\nthe highest branch, forty spans: The circumference of all the branches\ntogether, is one hundred and twenty feet. The branches are thick and\nextended; the lowest commence about the height of an ell from the\nground. Its fruit resembles the acorn, and tastes something like the\nkernel of a pine-nut, but is softer and more aromatic. The leaves of\nthis tree resemble those of the laurel, but are larger, wider, and\nmore curved; they come forth in a perpetual succession, so that the\ntree always remains green. Near to it grows a thorn, which fastens on\nmany of its branches, and interweaves with them; and, at a small\ndistance from the Garse, are some beech-trees, {180} bresos, and\nthorns. On the north side of the trunk are two large tanks, or\ncisterns, of rough stone, or rather one patera divided, each half\nbeing twenty feet square, and sixteen spans in depth. One of these\ncontains water for the drinking of the inhabitants, and the other that\nwhich they use for their cattle, washing, and such like purposes.\nEvery morning, near this part of the island, a cloud or mist arises\nfrom the sea, which the south and easterly winds force against the\nfore-mentioned steep cliff; so that the cloud, having no vent but by\nthe gutter, gradually ascends it, and from thence advances slowly to\nthe extremity of the valley, where it is stopped and checked by the\nfront of the rock which terminates the valley, and then rests upon the\nthick leaves and wide-spreading branches of the tree; from whence it\ndistils in drops during the remainder of the day, until it is at\nlength exhausted, in the same manner that we see water drip from the\nleaves of trees after a heavy shower of rain. This distillation is not\npeculiar to the Garse, or Til, for the bresos which grow near it\nlikewise drop water; but their leaves being but few and narrow, the\nquantity is so trifling, that, though the natives save some of it, yet\nthey make little or no account of any but what distils from the Til;\nwhich, together with the water of some fountains, and what is saved in\nthe winter season, is sufficient to {181} serve them and their flocks.\nThis tree yields most water in those years when the Levant, or\neasterly winds, have prevailed for a continuance; for by these winds\nonly, the clouds or mists are drawn hither from the sea. A person\nlives on the spot near which this tree grows, who is appointed by the\nCouncil to take care of it and its water, and is allowed a house to\nlive in, with a certain salary. He every day distributes to each\nfamily of the district, seven pots or vessels full of water, besides\nwhat he gives to the principal people of the island.\"\n\n\"Whether the tree which yields water at this present time be the same\nas that mentioned in the above description, I cannot pretend to\ndetermine, but it is probable there has been a succession of them; for\nPliny, describing the Fortunate Islands, says, \"In the mountains of\nOmbrion, are trees resembling the plant Ferula, from which water may\nbe procured by pressure: What comes from the black kind is bitter,\nbut that which the white yields is sweet and palatable.\"--GLAS's\n_History of the Canary Islands_.\n\nCordeyro (_Historia Insulana_, lib. ii. c. 5.) says, that this tree\nresembles what in other places is called the _Til_, (_Tilia_,) the\nLinden Tree; and he proceeds, from these three letters, to make it an\nemblem of the Trinity. The water, he says, was called the _Agua\nSanta_, and the tree {182} itself the _Santa Arvore_,--appellations\nnot ill bestowed. According to his account the water was delivered out\nin stated portions.\n\nThere is an account of a similar tree in Cockburne's Travels; but this\nI believe to be a work of fiction. Bernal Diaz, however, mentions one\nas growing at Naco, in Honduras, \"_Que en mitad de la siesta, por\nrecio sol que hiziesse, parecia que la sombra del arbol refrescava el\ncorazon, caia del uno como rozio muy delgado que confortava las\ncabezas._\"--206.\n\nThere may be some exaggeration in the accounts of the Fierro Tree, but\nthat the story has some foundation I have no doubt. The islanders of\nSt. Thomas say, that they have a sort of trees whose leaves\ncontinually are distilling water. (_Barbot. in Churckle_, 405.) It is\ncertain that a dew falls in hot weather from the lime,--a fact of\nwhich any person may easily convince himself. The same property has\nbeen observed in other English trees, as appears by the following\nextract from the Monthly Magazine:\n\n\"In the beginning of August, after a sun-shine day, the air became\nsuddenly misty about six o'clock; I walked, however, by the road side\nfrom seven to eight, and observed, in many places, that a shower of\nbig drops of water was falling under the large trees, although no rain\n{183} fell elsewhere. The road and path continued dusty, and the\nfield-gates showed no signs of being wetted by the mist. I have often\nnoticed the like fact, but have not met with a satisfactory\nexplanation of this power in trees to condense mist.\"\n\nI am not the only poet who has availed himself of the Fierro Tree. It\nis thus introduced in the Columbus of Carrara,--a singular work,\ncontaining, amid many extravagancies, some passages of rare merit:\n\n  Ecce autem inspector miri dum devius ignis\n  Fertur, in occursum mir\u00e6 magis incidit und\u00e6.\n  \u00c6quoris in medio diffusi largiter arbor\n  Stabat, opaca, ingens, \u00e6voque intacta priori,\n  Grata qiues Nymphis, et grata colentibus umbram\n  Alitibus sedes, quarum vox blanda, nec ull\u00e2\n  Musicus arte canor sylvam resonare docebat.\n  Auditor primum rari modulaminis, utque\n  Cominus admovit gressum, spectator et h\u00e6sit;\n  Namque videbat, uti de cortice, deque supernis\n  Crinibus, argentum guttatim mitteret humens\n  Truncus, et ignaro plueret Jove; moxque serenus\n  In concham caderet subjecti marmoris imber,\n  Donec ibi in fontem collectis undique rivis\n  {184}\n  Cresceret, atque ipso jam non ingratus ab ortu\n  Redderet humorem matri, qu\u00e6 commodat umbram.\n\n  Dum stupet et qu\u00e6rit, cur internodia possit\n  Unda; per et fibras, virides et serpere rugas,\n  Et ferri sursum, genio ducente deorsum;\n  Adstitit en Nympha; dubitat decernere, Nais,\n  Anne Dryas, custos num fontis, an arboris esset;\n  Verius ut credam, Genius sub imagine Nymph\u00e6\n  Ille loci fuerat. Quam pr\u00e6stantissimus Heros\n  Protinus ut vidit, Parce, o pulcherrima, dixit,\n  Si miser, et vestras ejectus nuper ad oras\n  Naufragus, idem audax videor fortasse rogando.\n  Dic age, quas labi video de stipite, lymph\u00e6\n  Montibus anne cadant, per operta foramina duct\u00e6,\n  Mox trabis irrigu\u00e6 saliant in frondea sursum\n  Brachia, ramalesque tubos; genitalis an alvus\n  Umbros\u00e6 genitricis alat; ceu s\u00e6pe videmus\n  Balsama de truncis, stillare electra racemis.\n  Pandere ne grave sit cupienti noscere causam\n  Vilia qu\u00e6 vobis usus miracula fecit.\n\n  H\u00e6c ubi dicta, silet. Tum Virgo ita reddidit, Hospes\n  Quisquis es, (eximium certe pr\u00e6sentia prodit)\n  {185}\n  Deciperis, si forte putas, quas aspicis undas\n  Esse satas terr\u00e2; procul omni a sede remota\n  Mira arbos, uni debet sua munera C\u0153lo.\n  Qu\u00e2 ratione tamen capiat, quia noscere gestis\n  Edicam; sed dicendis ne t\u00e6dia repant,\n  Hic locus, h\u00e6c eadem, de qu\u00e2 cantabitur, arbor\n  Dat tempestivam blandis afflatibus umbram:\n  Hic una sedeamus; et ambo fontis ad undam\n  Consedere; dehinc intermittente parumper\n  Concentu volucrum, placido sic incipit ore.\n\n  Nomine Canari\u00e6, de qu\u00e2 tenet Insula nomen,\n  Virgo fuit, non ore minus, quam pr\u00e6dita rar\u00e6\n  Laude pudiciti\u00e6, mirum qu\u00e6 pectore votum\n  Clausit, ut esse eadem genitrix et virgo cupiret.\n  At quia in Urbe satam fuerat sortita parentem\n  Ortum rure Patrem, diversis moribus hausit\n  Hinc sylv\u00e6 austeros, teneros hinc Urbis amores.\n  S\u00e6pe ubi visendi studio convenerat Urbes,\n  Et dare blanditias natis et sumere matres\n  Viderat ante fores, ut mater amavit amari.\n  S\u00e6pe ubi rure fuit de nymphis una Dian\u00e6,\n  Viderat atque Deam thalami consorte carentem,\n  Esse De\u00e6 similis, nec amari ut mater amavit.\n  Sed quid aget? cernit fieri non posse quod optat;\n  {186}\n  Non optare tamen, crudelius urit amantem.\n  Noctis erat medium: quo nos sumus, hoc erat illa\n  Forte loco, C\u0153loque videns splendescere Lunam,\n  O Dea, cui triplicis concessa potentia regni,\n  Parce precor, dixit, si qu\u00e6 nunc profero, non sum\n  Ausa prius; quod non posses audire Diana,\n  Cum sis Luna potes; tenebr\u00e6 minuere pudorem.\n  Est mihi Virginitas, fateor, re charior omni,\n  Attamen, h\u00e2c salv\u00e2, f\u0153cund\u00e6 si quoque Matris\n  Nomina miscerem, duplici de nomine quantum\n  Ambitiosa forem; certe non parva voluptas\n  Me caperet, coram si quis me luderet infans\n  Si mecum gestu, mecum loqueretur ocellis,\n  Cumque potest, quacumque potest, me voce vocaret,\n  Cujus et in vultu multum de matre viderem.\n  Ni sinit hoc humana tamen nature licere,\n  Fiat qu\u00e2 ratione potest; mutare figuram\n  Nil refert, voti compos si denique fiam.\n  Annuit oranti facilis Dea; Virgine digna\n  Et quia vota tulit, Virgo probat. Eligit ergo\n  De grege Plantarum ligni qu\u00e6 c\u0153libis esset.\n  Visa fuit Platanus: placet h\u00e6c; si vertat in istam\n  Canari\u00e6 corpus, sibi tempus in omne futuram\n  Tam caram esse videt, quam sit sua laurea Ph\u0153bo.\n  Nec mora, poscenti munus, ne signa deessent\n  {187}\n  Certa dati, movit falcat\u00e6 cornua frontis.\n  Virginis extemplo c\u0153pere rigere crura\n  Tenvia vestiri duro pr\u00e6cordia libro,\n  Ipsaque miratur, cervix quod eburnea, quantum\n  It C\u0153lo, tantum tendant in Tartara plant\u00e6;\n  Et jam formos\u00e2 de Virgine stabat et Arbos\n  Non formosa minus; qui toto in corpore pridem\n  Par ebori fuerat, candor quoque cortice mansit.\n  Sed deerat conjux uxoris moribus \u00e6que\n  Integer et c\u0153lebs, et Virginitatis amator,\n  Quo f\u0153cunda foret; verum tellure petendus\n  Hon hic, ab axe fuit. Quare incorruptus et idem\n  Purior e cunctis stellat\u00e6 noctis alumnis\n  Poscitur Hersophorus, sic Graii nomine dicunt,\n  Rorem Itali. Quocumque die (quis credere posset?)\n  Tamquam ex condicto cum Sol altissimus extat,\n  Sydereus conjux nebul\u00e6 velatus amictu\n  Labitur huc, niveisque maritam amplectitur alis:\n  Quodque fidem superat, parvo post tempora f\u0153tum\n  Concipit, et parvo post tempore parturit arbor,\n  Molle puerperium vis noscere? consule fontem,\n  Qui nos propter adest, in quo mixtura duorum\n  Agnosci possit, splendet materque paterque.\n  L\u00e6ta fovet genitrix, compos jam facta cupiti;\n  Illius optarat vultu se noscere, noscit;\n  {188}\n  Cernere ludentem se circum, ludere cernit;\n  Illum audire rudi matrem quoque voce vocantem,\n  Et matrem sese dici dum murmurat, audit.\n  Nec modo Virgintas f\u00e6cunda est arboris, ips\u00e6\n  Sunt quoque f\u0153cund\u00e6 frondes, quas excutit arbor.\n  Nam simul ac supra latices cecidere tepentes,\n  Insuper accessit Ph\u0153bei flamma caloris,\n  Concipiunt, pariuntque: oriturque tenerrimius ales\n  Nomine Canarius, qui pene exclusus in auras,\n  Tenvis adhuc, c\u0153lique rudis, crudusque labori\n  Jam super extantes affectat scandere ramos,\n  Et frondes, quarum una fuit. Nidum inde sub illis\n  Collocat adversum Soli, cui pandere pennas\n  Et siccare queat; latet hic, null\u00e2que magistr\u00e2\n  Arte canit, matrisque replet concentibus aures.\n  Adde quod affectus reddit genitricis eosdem,\n  Utque puellari genitrix in pectore clausit,\n  Hinc sylv\u00e6 austeros, teneros hinc Urbis amores,\n  Sic amat hic sylvas, ut non fastidiat Urbes.\n  Tecta colit, patiturque hominem, nec divitis aul\u00e6\n  Grande supercilium metuit sylvestris alumnus.\n  Imo loco admonitus, vix aulicus incipit esse,\n  Jam fit adulator, positum proferre paratus\n  In statione melos, domini quod vellicet aurem.\n                             CARRARA. _Columbus_.\n\n{189}\n\nThe Walking-Leaf would have been better than the Canary Bird.\n\n\n  _Nared_.--VII. p. 67.\n\nA very distinguished son of Brahma, named Nared, bears a strong\nresemblance to Hermes or Mercury; he was a wise legislator, great in\narts and in arms, an eloquent messenger of the Gods either to one\nanother, or to favoured mortals, and a musician of exquisite skill.\nHis invention of the _Vina_, or Indian lute, is thus described in the\npoem entitled _Magha_: \"Nared sat watching from time to time his large\n_Vina_, which, by the impulse of the breeze, yielded notes that\npierced successively the regions of his ear, and proceeded by musical\nintervals.\"--_Asiatic Researches_, Sir W. JONES.\n\nThe _Vina_ is an \u00c6olian harp. The people of Amboyna have a different\nkind of \u00c6olian instrument, which is thus described in the first\naccount of D'Entrecasteaux's Voyage: \"Being on the sea-shore, I heard\nsome wind-instruments, the harmony of which, though sometimes very\ncorrect, was intermixed with discordant notes that were by no means\nunpleasing. These sounds, which were very musical, and formed fine\ncadences, seemed to come from such a distance, that I for some time\nimagined the natives were having a concert beyond the road-stead, near\na myriameter {190} from the spot where I stood. My ear was greatly\ndeceived respecting the distance, for I was not an hundred meters from\nthe instrument. It was a bamboo at least twenty meters in height,\nwhich had been fixed in a vertical situation by the sea-side. I\nremarked between each knot a slit about three centimeters long by a\ncentimeter and a half wide; these slits formed so many holes, which,\nwhen the wind introduced itself into them, gave agreeable and\ndiversified sounds. As the knots of this long bamboo were very\nnumerous, care had been takes to make holes in different directions,\nin order that, on whatever side the wind blew, it might always meet\nwith some of them. I cannot convey a better idea of the sound of this\ninstrument, than by comparing them to those of the\nHarmonica.\"--LABILLARDIERE. _Voyage in Search of La Perouse_.\n\nNareda, the mythological offspring of _Saraswati_, patroness of music,\nis famed for his talents in that science. So great were they, that he\nbecame presumptuous; and, emulating the divine strains of _Krishna_,\nhe was punished by having his _Vina_ placed in the paws of a bear,\nwhence it emitted sounds far sweeter than the minstrelsy of the\nmortified musician. I have a picture of this joke, in which _Krishna_\nis forcing his reluctant friend to attend to his rough-visaged rival,\nwho is ridiculously touching the {191} chords of poor _Nareda's Vina_,\naccompanied by a brother bruin on the cymbals. Krishna passed several\npractical jokes on his humble and affectionate friend: He\nmetamorphosed him once into a woman, at another time into a\nbear.--MOOR's _Hindu Pantheon_, p. 204.\n\n\n  ----_The Sacrifice_\n  _That should, to men and gods, proclaim him Lord_\n  _And Sovereign Master of the vassal World._--VII. p. 71.\n\nThe Raisoo Yug, or Feast of Rajahs, could only be performed by a\nmonarch who had conquered all the other sovereigns of the\nworld.--HALHED. _Note to the Life of Creeshna_.\n\n\n  _Sole Rajah, the Omnipotent below._--VII. p. 71.\n\nNo person has given so complete a sample of the absurdity of oriental\ntitles as the Dutch traveller Struys, in his enumeration of \"the proud\nand blasphemous titles of the King of Siam,--they will hardly bear\nsense,\" says the translator, in what he elsewhere calls, by a happy\nblunder, \"the idiotism of our tongue.\"\n\nThe Alliance, written with letters of fine gold, being full of godlike\nglory. The most Excellent, containing all wise sciences. The most\nHappy, which is not in the world among men. The Best and most Certain\nthat is {192} in Heaven, Earth, and Hell. The greatest Sweet, and\nfriendly Royal Word; whose powerful-sounding properties and glorious\nfame range through the world, as if the dead were raised by a godlike\npower, and wonderfully purged from ghostly and corporal corruption. At\nthis both spiritual and secular men admire with a special joy, whereas\nno dignity may be herewith compared. Proceeding from a friendly,\nillustrious, inconquerable, most mighty, and most high Lord; and a\nroyal Crown of Gold, adorned with nine sorts of precious stones. The\ngreatest, clearest, and most godlike Lord of unblameable Souls. The\nmost Holy, seeing every where, and protecting Sovereign of the city\nJUDIA, whose many streets and open gates are thronged by troops of\nmen, which is the chief metropolis of the whole world, the royal\nthrone of the earth, that is adorned with nine sorts of stones, and\nmost pleasant valleys. He who guides the reins of the world, and has a\nhouse more than the Gods of fine gold and of precious stones; they the\ngodlike Lords of thrones and of fine gold; the White, Red, and\nRound-tayl'd Elephants,--which excellent creatures are the chiefest of\nthe nine sorts of Gods. To none hath the divine Lord given, in whose\nhand is the victorious sword; who is like the fiery-armed God of\nBattails, to the most illustrious.\n\nThe second is as blasphemous as the first, though hardly swells so far\nout of sense.\n\n{193}\n\nThe highest PADUCCO SYRY SULTAN, NELMONAM WELGACA, NELMOCHADIN\nMAGIVIITHA, JOUKEN DER EAUTEN ALLAULA FYLAN, King of the whole world;\nwho makes the water rise and flow. A King that is like a God, and\nshines like the Sun at noon-day. A King that gives a glance like the\nmoon when it is at full. Elected of God to be worthy as the North\nStar, being of the race and offspring of the great Alexander; with a\ngreat understanding, as a round orb, that tumbles hither and thither,\nable to guess at the depth of the great sea. A King that hath amended\nall the funerals of the departed Saints, and is as righteous as God,\nand of such power that all the world may come and shelter under his\nwings. A King that doth right in all things, as the Kings of old have\ndone. A King more liberal than all Kings. A King that hath many mines\nof gold that God hath lent him; who hath built temples half gold and\nhalf brass; sitting upon a throne of pure gold, and of all sorts of\nprecious stones. A King of the white Elephant, which Elephant is the\nKing of all Elephants, before whom many thousands of other Elephants\nmust bow and fall upon their knees. He whose eyes shine like the\nmorning-star. A King that hath Elephants with four teeth, red, purple,\nand pied. Elephants, _ay_, and a BYYTENAQUES Elephant; for which\nGod has given him many and divers sorts of apparel {194} wrought with\nmost fine gold, ennobled with many precious stones: and, besides\nthese, so many Elephants used in battle, having harnesses of iron,\ntheir teeth tipt with steel, and their harnesses laid over with\nshining brass. A King that has many hundred horses, whose trappings\nare wrought with fine gold, and adorned with precious stones of every\nsort that are found in the universal world where the Sun shines, and\nthese shod with fine gold: besides so many hundred horses that are\nused in war of every kind. A King who has all Emperours, Kings,\nPrinces, and Sovereigns in the whole world, from the rising to the\ngoing down of the sun, under subjection;--and such as can obtain his\nfavour are by him promoted to great honour; but, on the contrary, such\nas revolt, he burns with fire. A King who can show the power of God,\nand whatever God has made.\n\nAnd so, by this time, I hope you have heard enough of a King of\nElephants and Horses, though not a word of his Asses.--STRUYS.\n\n\n  _The Sacrifice._--VIII. p. 74.\n\nThe _Aswamedha_, or sacrifice of a horse. Considerable difficulties\nusually attended that ceremony; for the consecrated horse was to be\nset at liberty for a certain time, and followed at a distance by the\nowner, or his champion, {195} who was usually one of his near kinsmen;\nand, if any person should attempt to stop it in its rambles, a battle\nmust inevitably ensue; besides, as the performer of a hundred\n_Aswamedhas_ became equal to the God of the firmament, _Indra_ was\nperpetually on the watch, and generally carried off the sacred animal\nby force or by fraud.--WILFORD. _Asiat. Res_.\n\nMr. Halhed gives a very curious account of this remarkable sacrifice:\n\n\"The Ashum-meed-Jugg does not merely consist in the performance of\nthat ceremony which is open to the inspection of the world, namely, in\nbringing a horse and sacrificing him; but Ashum-meed is to be taken in\na mystic signification, as implying that the sacrificer must look upon\nhimself to be typified in that horse, such as he shall be described,\nbecause the religious duty of the Ashum-meed-Jugg comprehends all\nthose other religious duties, to the performance of which all the wise\nand holy direct all their actions, and by which all the sincere\nprofessors of every different faith aim at perfection: The mystic\nsignification thereof is as follows:\n\n\"The head of that unblemished horse is the symbol of the morning; his\neyes are the sun; his breath the wind; his wide-opening mouth is the\nBishwaner, or that innate warmth which invigorates all the world: His\nbody typifies {196} one entire year; his back paradise; his belly the\nplains; his hoof this earth; his sides the four quarters of the\nheavens; the bones thereof the intermediate spaces between the four\nquarters; the rest of his limbs represent all distinct matter; the\nplaces where those limbs meet, or his joints, imply the months and\nhalves of the months, which are called _peche_ (or fortnights): His\nfeet signify night and day; and night and day are of four kinds, 1.\nthe night and day of Birhma, 2. the night and day of angels, 3. the\nnight and day of the world of the spirits of deceased ancestors, 4.\nthe night and day of mortals; these four kinds are typified in his\nfour feet. The rest of his bones are the constellations of the fixed\nstars, which are the twenty-eight stages of the moon's course, called\nthe Lunar year; his flesh is the clouds; his food the sand; his\ntendons the rivers; his spleen and his liver the mountains; the hair\nof his body the vegetables, and his long hair the trees: the fore part\nof his body typifies the first half of the day, and the hinder part\nthe latter half; his yawning is the flash of the lightning, and his\nturning himself is the thunder of the cloud: His urine represents the\nrain, and his mental reflection is his only speech. The golden\nvessels, which are prepared before the horse is let loose, are the\nlight of the day, and the place where those vessels are kept is a type\nof the Ocean {197} of the East; the silver vessels, which are prepared\nafter the horse is let loose, are the light of the night; and the\nplace where those vessels are kept is a type of the Ocean of the West:\nthese two sorts of vessels are always before and after the horse. The\nArabian horse, which, on account of its swiftness, is called Hy, is\nthe performer of the journies of angels; the Tajee, which is of the\nrace of Persian horses, is the performer of the journies of the\nKundherps (or good spirits); the Wazba, which is of the race of the\ndeformed Tazee horses, is the performer of the journies of the Jins,\n(or demons;) and the Ashoo, which is of the race of Turkish horses, is\nthe performer of the journies of mankind. This one horse, which\nperforms these several services, on account of his four different\nsorts of riders, obtains the four different appellations. The place\nwhere this horse remains is the great ocean, which signifies, the\ngreat spirit of Perm-Atma, or the Universal Soul, which proceeds also\nfrom that Perm-Atma, and is comprehended in the same Perm-Atma. The\nintent of this sacrifice is, that a man should consider himself to be\nin the place of that horse, and look upon all these articles as\ntypified in himself; and, conceiving the Atma (or divine soul) to be\nan ocean, should let all thought of self be absorbed in that\nAtma.\"--HALHED, _from Darul Shekuh_.\n\n{198}\n\nCompare this specimen of eastern sublimity with the description of the\nhorse in Job! Compare it also with the account of the Bengal horses,\nin the very amusing work of Captain Williamson,--\"which said horses,\"\nhe says, \"have generally Reman noses, and sharp narrow foreheads, much\nwhite in their eyes, ill-shaped ears, square heads, thin necks, narrow\nchests, shallow girths, lank bellies, cat hams, goose rumps, and\nswitch tails.\"--_Oriental Sports_, vol. ii. p. 206.\n\n\n  _The Bowl that in its vessel floats._--VIII. p. 78.\n\nThe day and night are here divided into four quarters, each of six\nhours, and these again into fifteen parts, of twenty-four minutes\neach. For a chronometer they use a kind of dish of thin brass, at the\nbottom of which there is a little hole; this is put into a vessel with\nwater, and it runs full in a certain time. They begin their first\nquarter at six in the morning. They strike the quarters and\nsubdivisions of time with a wooden hammer, upon a flat piece of iron\nor steel, of about ten inches in diameter, which is called a\n_garnial_, and gives a pretty smart sound, which can be heard at some\ndistance. The quarters are first struck, and then as many times as the\nbrass dish has run full in that quarter. None but the chief men of a\ndistrict are allowed to have a _garnial_, and still they may {199} not\nstrike the first division of the first quarter, which is a privilege\nreserved to the nabob alone. Those who attend at these clocks must be\nof the Bramin cast.--STAVORINUS.\n\n\n  _Lo, the time-taper's flame, ascending slow_\n  _Creeps up its coil._--VIII. p. 79.\n\nThey make a sort of paste of the dust of a certain sort of wood, (the\nlearned and rich men of sandal, eagle-wood, and others that are\nodoriferous), and of this paste they make sticks of several sorts,\ndrawing them through a hole, that they may be of an equal thickness.\nThey commonly make them one, two, or three yards long, about the\nthickness of a goose-quill, to burn in the pagods before their idols,\nor to use like a match to convey fire from one thing to another. These\nsticks or ropes they coil, beginning at the centre, and so form a\nspiral conical figure, like a fisherman's wheel, so that the last\ncircle shall be one, two, or three spans diameter, and will last one,\ntwo, or three days, or more, according as it is in thickness. There\nare of them in the temples that last ten, twenty, and thirty days.\nThis thing is hung up by the centre, and is lighted at the lower end,\nwhence the fire gently and insensibly runs round all the coil, on\nwhich there are generally five marks, to distinguish the five parts of\nthe {200} night. This method of measuring time is so exact and true,\nthat they scarce ever find any considerable mistake in it. The\nlearned, travellers, and all others, who will rise at a certain hour\nto follow their business, hang a little weight at the mark that shews\nthe hour they have a mind to rise at, which, when the fire comes\nthither, drops into a brass bason set under it; and so the noise of it\nfalling awakes them, as our alarum-clocks do.--GEMELLI CARERI.\n\n\n  _At noon the massacre begun,_\n  _And night clos'd in before the work of death was done._\n  --VIII. p. 82.\n\nOf such massacres the ancient and modern history of the East supply\nbut too many examples. One may suffice:\n\nAfter the surrender of the Ilbars Khan, Nadir prohibited his soldiers\nfrom molesting the inhabitants; but their rapacity was more powerful\nthan their habits of obedience, or even their dread of his\ndispleasure, and they accordingly began to plunder. The instant Nadir\nheard of their disobedience, he ordered the offenders to be brought\nbefore him, and the officers were beheaded in his presence, and the\nprivate soldiers dismissed with the loss of their ears and noses. The\nexecutioners toiled till {201} sun-set, when he commanded the headless\ntrunks with their arms to be carried to the main-guard, and there to\nbe exposed for two days, as an example to others. I was present the\nwhole time, and saw the wonderful hand of God, which employs such\ninstruments for the execution of his divine vengeance; although not\none of the executioners was satisfied with Nadir Shah, yet nobody\ndared to disobey his commands:--a father beheaded his son, and a\nbrother a brother, and yet presumed not to complain.--ABDUL KURREEM.\n\n\n  _Behold his lovely home,_\n  _By yonder broad-bough'd Plane o'ershaded._--IX. p. 84.\n\nThe plane-tree, that species termed the _Platanus Orientalis_, is\ncommonly cultivated in Kashmire, where it is said to arrive at a\ngreater perfection than in other countries. This tree, which in most\nparts of Asia is called the _Chinur_, grows to the size of an oak, and\nhas a taper straight trunk, with a silver-coloured bark; and its leaf,\nnot unlike an expanded hand, is of a pale green. When in full foliage,\nit has a grand and beautiful appearance; and, in the hot weather, it\naffords a refreshing shade.--FORSTER.\n\n\n  _The Marriage-Bower._--IX. p. 85.\n\nThe Pandal is a kind of arbour or bower raised before {202} the doors\nof young married women. They set up two or three poles, seven or eight\nfoot in length, round which the leaves of the Pisan-tree, the symbol\nof joy, are entwined. These poles support others that are laid\ncrossways, which are covered with leaves in order to form a shade. The\nSiriperes are allowed to set up no more than three pillars, and the\ninfringing of this custom would be sufficient to cause an\ninsurrection.--A. ROGER, _in Picart_.\n\n\n  _There, from the intolerable heat,_\n  _The buffaloes retreat._--IX. p. 87.\n\nAbout noon, in hot weather, the buffalo throws herself into the water\nor mud of a tank, if there be one accessible at a convenient distance;\nand, leaving nothing above water but her nose, continues there for\nfive or six hours, or until the heat abates.--BUCHANAN.\n\nIn the hot season, when water becomes very scarce, the buffaloes avail\nthemselves of any puddle they may find among the covers, wherein they\nroll and rub themselves, so as in a short time to change what was at\nfirst a shallow flat, into a deep pit, sufficient to conceal their own\nbulk. The humidity of the soil, even when the water may have been\nevaporated, is particularly gratifying to these animals, which cannot\nbear heat, and which, if {203} not indulged in a free access to the\nwater, never thrive.--_Oriental Sports_, vol. i. p. 259.\n\nThe buffalo not only delights in the water, but will not thrive unless\nit have a swamp to wallow in. There rolling themselves, they speedily\nwork deep hollows, wherein they lay immersed. No place seems to\ndelight the buffalo more than the deep verdure on the confines of\njiels and marshes, especially if surrounded by tall grass, so as to\nafford concealment and shade, while the body is covered by the water.\nIn such situations they seem to enjoy a perfect ecstacy, having in\ngeneral nothing above the surface but their eyes and nostrils, the\nhorns being kept low down, and consequently entirely hidden from\nview.--_Oriental Sports_, vol. ii. p. 49.\n\nCaptain Beaver describes these animals as to be found during the heat\nof the day in the creeks and on the shores of the island of Bulama,\nalmost totally immerged in water, little more than their heads\nappearing above it.\n\n\n  _The market-flag._--IX. p. 86.\n\nMany villages have markets on particular days, when not only fruits,\ngrain, and the common necessaries of life are sold, but occasionally\nmanufactures of various descriptions. These markets are well known to\nall the neighbouring country, being on appointed days of the {204}\nweek, or of the lunar month; but, to remind those who may be\ntravelling of their vicinity to the means of supply, a _naugaurah_, or\nlarge kettle-drum, is beat during the forenoon, and a small flag,\nusually of white linen, with some symbolic figure in colours, or with\na coloured border, is hoisted on a very long bamboo, kept upright by\nmeans of ropes fastened to pins driven into the ground. The flags of\nHindoo villages are generally square and plain; those of the\nMussulmans towns are ordinarily triangular, and bear the type of\ntheir, religion, viz. a double-bladed scymitar.--_Oriental Sports_,\nvol. i. p. 100.\n\n\n  _Mount Meru._--X. p. 93.\n\nAccording to the orthodox Hindus, the globe is divided into two\nhemispheres, both called _Meru_; but the superior hemisphere is\ndistinguished by the name of _Sumeru_, which implies beauty and\nexcellence, in opposition to the lower hemisphere, or _Cumeru_, which\nsignifies the reverse: By _Meru_, without any adjunct, they generally\nmean the higher or northern hemisphere, which they describe with a\nprofusion of poetic imagery as the seat of delights: while they\nrepresent _Cumeru_ as the dreary habitation of demons, in some parts\nintensely cold, and in others so hot that the waters are continually\nboiling. In strict propriety, Meru denotes the pole and the polar\n{205} regions; but it is the celestial north pole round which they\nplace the gardens and metropolis of _Indra_, while _Yama_ holds his\ncourt in the opposite polar circle, or the Station of _Asuras_, who\nwarred with the _Suras_, or gods of the firmament.--WILFORD.\n_Asiatic Researches_.\n\nIn the _Vayu Pur\u00e1n\u00e1_, we are told, that the water, or _Ogha_ of the\nocean, coming down from heaven like a stream of _Amrita_ upon _Meru_,\nencircles it through seven channels, for the space of 84,000\n_Yojanas_, and then divides into four streams, which, falling from the\nimmense height of Meru, rest themselves in four lakes, from which they\nspring over the mountains through the air, just brushing the summits.\nThis wild account was not unknown in the west; for this passage is\ntranslated almost verbally, by Pliny and Q. Curtius, in speaking of\nthe Ganges. _Cum magno fragore ipsius statim fontis Ganges erumpit_,\net magnorum montium juga recto alveo stringit, _et ubi primum mollis\nplanities contingat, in quodam lacu hospitatur_. The words in Italics\nare from Pliny (vi. c. 18.) the others from Curtius (viii. c.\n9.)--Capt. WILFORD. _As. Res_. vol. viii. p. 322. Calcutta edition.\n\nThe Swarganga, or Mandacini, rises from under the feet of Veeshno, at\nthe polar star, and, passing through the circle of the moon, it falls\nupon the summit of Meru; where it divides into four streams, flowing\ntoward {206} the four cardinal points. These four branches pass\nthrough four rocks, carved into the shape of four heads of different\nanimals. The Ganges running towards the south passes through a cow's\nhead: To the west is a horse's head, from which flows the Chaashu or\nOxus; towards the east is the head of an elephant, from which flows\nthe river Sita; and to the north is a lion's head, from which flows\nthe Bhadrasama.--WILFORD. _As. Res_. vol. viii. 317. Calc. edition.\n\nThe mountains through which the Ganges flows at Hurdwar, present the\nspectator with the view of a grand natural amphitheatre; their\nappearance is rugged and destitute of verdure; they run in ridges and\nbluff points, in a direction east and west: At the back of the largest\nrange, rise, towering to the clouds, the lofty mountains of\nHimmalayah, whose tops are covered with perpetual snow, which, on\nclear days, present a most sublime prospect. Their large jagged\nmasses, broken into a variety of irregular shapes, added to their\nstupendous height, impress the mind with an idea of antiquity and\ngrandeur coeval with the creation; and the eternal frost with which\nthey are encrusted appears to preclude the possibility of mortals ever\nattaining their summit.\n\nIn viewing this grand spectacle of nature, the traveller may easily\nyield his assent to, and pardon the superstitious {207} veneration of\nthe Hindoo votary, who, in the fervour of his imagination, assigns the\nsummit of these icy regions as the abode of the great Mahadeo, or\nFirst Cause, where, seated on his throne of ice, he is supposed to\nreceive the homage of the surrounding universe.--FRANKLIN's _Life of\nGeorge Thomas_, p. 41.\n\nAt Gang\u00f3ttara, three small streams fall down from impassable snowy\nprecipices, and unite into a small bason below, which is considered by\nthe Hindus as the source of the Ganges, over which, at that place, a\nman can step. This is one of the five _Tirthas_, or stations, more\neminently sacred than the rest upon this sacred river. Narayana\nShastri, who gave this account, had visited it.--BUCHANAN.\n\nThe mountain, called Cailasa Cungri is exceedingly lofty. On its\nsummit there is a Bhowjputr tree, from the root of which sprouts or\ngushes a small stream, which the people say is the source of the\nGanges, and that it comes from Vaicont'ha, or Heaven, as is also\nrelated in the Pur\u00e1nas; although this source appears to the sight to\nflow from the spot where grows this Bhowjputr tree, which is at an\nascent of some miles; and yet above this there is a still loftier\nsummit, where no one goes: But I have heard that, on that uppermost\npinnacle, there is a fountain or cavity, to which a Jogui somehow\npenetrated, {208} who, having immersed his little finger in it, it\nbecame petrified.--PURANA POORI. _Asiatic Researches_.\n\nRespecting the true source of the Ganges much uncertainty still\nprevails. In vain one of the most powerful sovereigns of Indostan, the\nemperor Acbar, at the close of the sixteenth century, sent a number of\nmen, an army of discoverers, provided with every necessary, and the\nmost potent recommendations, to explore the course of the mighty river\nwhich adorned and fertilised the vast extent of his dominions. They\nwere not able to penetrate beyond the famous _Mouth of the Cow_. This\nis an immense aperture, in a ridge of the mountains of Thibet, to\nwhich the natives of India have given this appellation, from the\nfancied or real resemblance of the rocks which form the stupendous\nchasm, to the mouth of an animal esteemed sacred throughout Indostan\nfrom the remotest antiquity. From this opening the Ganges,\nprecipitating itself into a large and deep bason at the foot of the\nmountains, forms a cataract, which is called Gangotri. The\nimpracticability of scaling these precipitous rocks, and advancing\nbeyond this formidable pass, has prevented the tracing whence this\nrushing mass of water takes its primary rise.--WILCOCKE, _Note to\nStavorinus_.\n\n{209}\n\n\n  _The birth of Ganges._--X. p. 94.\n\nI am indebted to Sir William Jones's Hymn to Ganga for this fable:\n\n  \"Above the stretch of mortal ken,\n  On bless'd _Cailasa's_ top, where every stem\n  Glow'd with a vegetable gem,\n  Mahe'sa stood, the dread and joy of men;\n  While P\u00e1rvati, to gain a boon,\n  Fix'd on his locks a beamy moon,\n  And hid his frontal eye, in jocund play,\n  With reluctant sweet delay.\n  All nature straight was lock'd in dim eclipse,\n  Till _Brahmans_ pure, with hallow'd lips,\n  And warbled prayers, restored the day;\n  When Ganga from his brow, by heavenly fingers press'd,\n  Sprang radiant, and, descending, graced the caverns of the west.\"\n\nThe descent of the Ganges is related in the Ramayuna, one of the most\ncelebrated of the sacred books of the Bramins. This work the excellent\nand learned Baptist missionaries at Serampore are at this time\nemployed in printing and translating; one volume has arrived in {210}\nEurope, and from it I am tempted here to insert an extract of\nconsiderable length. The reader will be less disposed to condemn the\nfictions of Kehama as extravagant, when he compares them with this\ngenuine specimen of Hindoo fable. He will perceive, too, that no undue\nimportance has been attributed to the Horse of the Sacrifice in the\nPoem.\n\n\"The son of Kooshika having, in mellifluous accents, related these\nthings to Rama, again addressed the descendant of Kakootitha.\nFormerly, O hero! there was a king of Hyoodhya, named Sagura, the\nSovereign of Men, virtuous, desirous of children, but childless; O\nRama! the daughter of Vidurbhakeshinee, virtuous, attached to truth,\nwas his chief consort, and the daughter of Urishtunemi, Soomuti,\nunequalled in beauty, his second spouse. With these two consorts, the\ngreat king, going to Himuvat, engaged in sacred austerities on the\nmountain in whose sacred stream Bhrigoo constantly bathed. A hundred\nyears being completed, the sage Bhrigoo, clothed with truth, rendered\npropitious by his austerities, granted him this blessing: O sinless\nOne! thou shalt obtain a most numerous progeny; thy fame, O chief of\nmen! will be unparalleled in the universe. From one of thy consorts, O\nsire! shall spring the founder of thy race, and, from the other, sixty\nthousand sons.\n\n{211}\n\n\"The queens, pleased, approached the chief of men who was thus\nspeaking, and, with hands respectfully joined, asked, O Brahman!\nwhose shall be the one son, and who shall produce the multitude? We, O\nBrahman! desire to hear. May thy words be verified. Hearing their\nrequest, the most virtuous Bhrigoo replied in these admirable words:\nFreely say which of these favours ye desire, whether the one, founder\nof the family, or the multitude of valiant, renowned, energetic sons.\nO Rama! son of Rughoo, Keshinee hearing the words of the sage, in the\npresence of the king accepted the one son, the founder of the family;\nand Soomuti, sister of Soopurna, accepted the sixty thousand sons,\nactive and renowned. The king, O son of Rughoo! having respectfully\ncircumambulated the sage, bowing the head, returned with his spouses\nto his own city.\n\n\"After some time had elapsed, his eldest spouse Keshinee bore to\nSugura a son, named Usumunja; and Soomuti, O chief of men! brought\nforth a gourd, from which, on its being opened, came forth sixty\nthousand sons. These, carefully brought up by their nurses, in jars\nfilled with clarified butter, in process of time attained the state of\nyouth;[4] and, after a long period, the {212} sixty thousand sons\nof Sugura, possessed of youth and beauty, became men. The eldest son,\nthe offspring of Sugura, O son of Rughoo! chief of men, seizing\nchildren, would throw them into the waters of the Suruyoo, and sport\nhimself with their drowning pangs. This evil person, the distresser of\ngood men, devoted to the injury of the citizens, was by his father\nexpelled from the city. The son of Usumunja, the heroic Ungshooman, in\nconversation courteous and affectionate, was esteemed by all.\n\n\"After a long time, O chief of men! Sugura formed the steady resolve,\n\"I will perform a sacrifice.\" Versed in the Veda, the king, attended\nby his instructors, having determined the things relating to the\nsacrificial work, began to prepare the sacrifice.\n\n\"Hearing the words of Vishwa-mitra, the son of Rughoo, highly\ngratified in the midst of the story, addressed the sage, bright as the\nardent flame, Peace be to Thee: I desire, O Brahman! to hear this\nstory at large, how my predecessors performed the sacrifice. Hearing\nhis words, Vishwa-mitra, smiling, pleasantly replied to Rama: {213}\n\"Attend, then, O Rama! to the story of Sugura, repeated at full\nlength. Where the great mountain Himuvat, the happy father-in-law of\nShunkura, and the mountain Bindhyo, overlooking the country around,\nproudly vie with each other, there was the sacrifice of the great\nSugura performed. That land, sacred and renowned, is the habitation of\nRakshuses. At the command of Sugura, the hero Ungshooman, O Rama!\neminent in archery, a mighty charioteer, was the attendant (of the\nhorse.[5]) While the king was performing the sacrifice, a serpent,\nassuming the form of Ununta, rose from the earth, and seized the\nsacrificial horse. The sacrificial victim being stolen, all the\npriests, O son of Rughoo! going to the king, said, Thy consecrated\nhorse has been stolen by some one in the form of a serpent. Kill the\nthief, and bring back the sacred horse. This interruption in the\nsacrifice portends evil to us all. Take those steps, O king! which may\nlead to the completion of the sacrifice. Having heard the advice of\nhis instructors, the king, calling his sixty thousand sons into the\nassembly, said, I perceive that the Rakshuses have not been to this\ngreat sacrifice. A sacrifice of the Nagas is now performing by the\nsages, and some god, in the form of a serpent, {214} has stolen the\ndevoted horse. Whoever he be, who, at the time of the Deeksha, has\nbeen the cause of this afflictive circumstance, this unhappy event,\nwhether he be gone to Patala, or whether he remain in the waters, kill\nhim, O sons! and bring back my victim. May success attend you, O my\nsons! At my command traverse the sea-girt earth, digging with mighty\nlabour, till you obtain a sight of the horse; each one piercing the\nearth to the depth of a yojunga, go you in search of him who stole the\nsacred horse. Being consecrated by the Deeksha, I, with my grandson\nand my teachers, will remain with the sacrifice unfinished, till I\nagain behold my devoted horse.\n\n\"Thus instructed by their father Sugura, they, in obedience to him,\nwent with cheerful mind, O Rama! to the bottom of the earth. The\nstrong ones, having gone over the earth without obtaining a sight of\nthe horse, each of these mighty men pierced the earth, to the depth of\na yojuna, with their mighty arm, the stroke of which resembled the\nthunder-bolt. Pierced by Kooddalas,[6] by Purighas,[7] by\nShoolas,[8] by Mooshulas,[9] {215} and Shuktis,[10] the\nearth cried out as in darkness. Then arose, O Raghuva! a dreadful cry\nof the serpents, the Usooras, the Rakshuses, and other creatures, as\nof beings suffering death. These angry youths, O son of Rughoo! dug\nthe earth even to Patala, to the extent of sixty thousand yojunas.\nThus, O prince! the sons of the sovereign of men traversed\nJumboodweepa, inclosed with mountains, digging wherever they came. The\ngods now, with the Gundburwas and the great serpents, struck with\nastonishment, went all of them to Bruhma, and, bowing even to the foot\nof the great spirit, they, full of terror, with dejected countenance,\naddressed him thus: \"O Deva! O divine One! the whole earth, covered\nwith mountains and woods, with rivers and continents, the sons of\nSugura are now digging up. By these digging, O Bruhma! the mightiest\nbeings are killed. This is the stealer of our consecrated victims; by\nthis (fellow) our horse was taken away:\" Thus saying, these sons of\nSugura destroy all creatures. O most powerful! having heard this, it\nbecomes thee to interpose, before these horse-seekers destroy all thy\ncreatures endued with life.\"\n\nThus far the thirty-second Section, describing the digging of earth.\n\n{216}\n\n  SECTION THIRTY-THREE.\n\n\"Hearing the words of the gods, the divine Bruhma replied to these\naffrighted ones, stupified with the Yuma-like power of these youths:\nThe wise Vasoo-deva, the great Madhuva, who claims the earth for his\nspouse, that divine one, residing in the form of Kupila, supports the\nearth. By the fire of his wrath he will destroy the sons of the king.\nThis piercing of the earth must, I suppose, be perceived by him, and\nhe will (effect) the destruction of the long-sighted sons of Sugura.\nThe thirty-three gods,[11] enemy-subduing, having heard the words\nof Bruhma, returned home full of joy. The sons of Sugura, highly\nrenowned, thus digging the earth, a sound was produced resembling that\nof conflicting elements. Having encompassed and penetrated the whole\nearth, the sons of Sugura, returning to their father, said, The whole\nearth has been traversed by us; and all the powerful gods, the\nDanuvas, the Ruckshuses, the Pishachas, the serpents, and hydras, are\nkilled[12]; but we have not seen {217} thy horse, nor the thief.\nWhat shall we do? Success be to thee: be pleased to determine what\nmore is proper. The virtuous king, having heard the words of his sons,\nO son of Rughoo! angrily replied, Again commence digging. Having\npenetrated the earth, and found the stealer of the horse, having\naccomplished your intention, return again. Attentive to the words of\ntheir father, the great Sugura, the sixty thousand descended to\nPatala, and there renewed their digging. There, O chief of men! they\nsaw the elephant of that quarter of the globe, in size resembling a\nmountain, with distorted eyes, supporting with his head this earth,\nwith its mountains and forests, covered with various countries, and\nadorned with numerous cities. When, for the sake of rest, O\nKakootstha! the great elephant, through distress, refreshes himself by\nmoving his head, an earthquake is produced.\n\n\"Having respectfully circumambulated this mighty elephant, guardian of\nthe quarter, they, O Rama! praising him, penetrated into Patala. After\nthey had thus penetrated the east quarter, they opened their way to\nthe south. Here they saw that great elephant Muha-pudma, equal to a\nhuge mountain, sustaining the earth with his head. Beholding him, they\nwere filled with surprise; and, after the usual circumambulation, the\nsixty thousand sons of the great Sugura perforated the west quarter.\n{218} In this these mighty ones saw the elephant Soumunusa, of equal\nsize. Having respectfully saluted him, and enquired respecting his\nhealth, these valiant ones digging, arrived at the north. In this\nquarter, O chief of Rughoo! they saw the snow-white elephant Bhudra,\nsupporting this earth with his beautiful body. Circumambulating him,\nthey again penetrated the earth, and proceeded north-east to that\nrenowned quarter; all the sons of Sugura, through anger, pierced the\nearth again. There all those magnanimous ones, terrible in swiftness,\nand of mighty prowess, saw Kupila, Vasodeva the eternal,[13] and\nnear him the horse feeding. Filled, O son of Rughoo! with unparalleled\njoy, they all knowing him to be the stealer of the horse, with eyes\nstarting with rage, seizing their spades and their _langulas_, and\neven trees and stones, ran towards him full of wrath, calling out,\nStop, stop! thou art the stealer of our sacrificial horse: Thou stupid\none, know that we who have found thee are the sons of Rughoo. Kupila,\nfilled with excessive anger, uttered from his nostrils a loud sound,\nand instantly, O Kakootstha! by Kupila of immeasurable power, were all\nthe sons of Sugura turned to a heap of ashes.\"\n\n{219}\n\nThus far the thirty-third Section, describing the interview with\nKupila.\n\n\n  SECTION THIRTY-FOUR.\n\n\"O son of Rughoo! Sugura, perceiving that his sons had been absent a\nlong time, thus addressed his grandson, illustrious by his own might:\nThou art a hero, possessed of science, in prowess equal to thy\npredecessors. Search out the fate of thy paternal relatives, and the\nperson by whom the horse was stolen, that we may avenge ourselves on\nthese subterraneous beings, powerful and great. Take thy scymitar and\nbow, O beloved one! and finding out thy deceased paternal relatives,\ndestroy my adversary. The proposed end being thus accomplished,\nreturn. Bring me happily through this sacrifice.\n\n\"Thus particularly addrest by the great Sugura, Ungshooman, swift and\npowerful, taking his bow and scymitar, departed. Urged by the king,\nthe chief of men traversed the subterraneous road dug by his great\nancestors. There the mighty one saw the elephant of the quarter,\nadored by the gods, the Danuvas and Rukshuses, the Pishachas, the\nbirds and the serpents. Having circumambulated him, and asked\nconcerning his welfare, Ungshooman {220} enquired for his paternal\nrelatives, and the stealer of the sacred victim. The mighty elephant\nof the quarter hearing, replied, O son of Usumunja! thou wilt\naccomplish thine intention, and speedily return with the horse. Having\nheard this, he, with due respect, enquired, in regular succession, of\nall the elephants of the quarters. Honoured by all these guardians of\nthe eight sides of the earth, acquainted with speech, and eminent in\neloquence, he was told, Thou wilt return with the horse. Upon this\nencouraging declaration, he swiftly went to the place where lay his\npaternal relatives, the sons of Sugura, reduced to a heap of ashes.\n(At this sight) the son of Usumunja, overwhelmed with sorrow on\naccount of their death, cried out with excess of grief. In this state\nof grief, the chief of men beheld, grazing near, the sacrificial\nhorse. The illustrious one, desirous of performing the funeral\nobsequies of these sons of the king, looked around for a receptacle of\nwater, but in vain. Extending his eager view, he saw, O Rama! the\nsovereign of birds, the uncle of his paternal relatives, Soopurna, in\nsize resembling a mountain. Vinuteya, of mighty prowess, addressed him\nthus: Grieve not, O chief of men! this slaughter is approved by the\nuniverse. These great ones were reduced to ashes by Kupila of\nunmeasurable might. It is not proper for thee, O wise one! to pour\ncommon water upon {221} these ashes. Gunga, O chief of men! is the\neldest daughter of Himuvut. With her sacred stream, O valiant one!\nperform the funeral ceremonies for thine ancestors. If the purifier of\nthe world flow on them, reduced to a heap of ashes, these ashes, being\nwetted by Gunga, the illuminator of the world, the sixty thousand sons\nof thy grandfather will be received into heaven. May success attend\nthee! Bring Gunga to the earth from the residence of the gods. If thou\nart able, O chief of men! possessor of the ample share, let the\ndescent of Gunga be accomplished by thee. Take the horse, and go\nforth. It is thine, O hero! for to complete the great paternal\nsacrifice.\n\n\"Having heard these words of Soopurna, Ungshooman, the heroic,\nspeedily seizing the horse, returned. Then, O son of Rughoo! being\ncome to the king, who was still performing the initiatory ceremonies,\nhe related to him the whole affair, and the advice of Soopurna.\n\n\"After hearing the terror-inspiring relation of Ungshooman, the king\nfinished the sacrifice, in exact conformity to the tenor and spirit of\nthe ordinance: Having finished his sacrifice, the sovereign of the\nearth returned to his palace. The king, however, was unable to devise\nany way for the descent of Gunga from heaven: after a long time,\nunable to fix upon any method, he departed to heaven, having reigned\nthirty thousand years.\n\n{222}\n\n\"Sugura having, O Rama! paid the debt of nature, the people chose\nUngshooman, the pious, for their sovereign. Ungshooman, O son of\nRughoo! was a very great monarch. His son was called Dwileepa. Having\nplaced him on the throne, he, O Raguva! retiring to the pleasant top\nof Mount Himuvut, performed the most severe austerities. This\nexcellent sovereign of men, illustrious as the immortals, was\nexceedingly desirous of the descent of Gunga; but not obtaining his\nwish, the renowned monarch, rich in sacred austerities, departed to\nheaven, after having abode in the forest sacred to austerities,\nthirty-two thousand years. Dwileepa, the highly energetic, being made\nacquainted with the slaughter of his paternal great-uncles, was\noverwhelmed with grief; but was still unable to fix upon a way of\ndeliverance. How shall I accomplish the descent of Gunga? How shall I\nperform the funeral ablutions of these relatives? How shall I deliver\nthem? In such cogitations was his mind constantly engaged. While these\nideas filled the mind of the king, thoroughly acquainted with sacred\nduties, there was born to him a most virtuous son, called\nBhugee-rutha. The illustrious king Dwileepa performed many sacrifices,\nand governed the kingdom for thirty thousand years; but, O chief of\nmen! no way of obtaining the deliverance of his ancestors appearing,\nhe, by a disease, discharged the debt {223} of nature. Having\ninstalled his own son Bhugee-rutha in the kingdom, the lord of men\ndeparted to the paradise of Indra, through the merits of his own\nvirtuous deeds.\n\n\"The pious, the royal sage, Bhugee-rutha, O son of Rughoo! was\nchildless. Desirous of offspring, yet childless, the great monarch\nentrusted the kingdom to the care of his counsellors; and, having his\nheart set on obtaining the descent of Gunga, engaged in a long course\nof sacred austerities upon the mountain Gokurna. With hands erected,\nhe, O son of Rughoo! surrounded in the hot season with five\nfires,[14] according to the prescribed ordinance; in the cold\nseason lying in water; and in the rainy season exposed to the\ndescending clouds, feeding on fallen leaves, with his mind restrained,\nand his sensual feelings subdued, this valiant and great king\ncontinued a thousand years in the practice of the most severe\nausterities. The magnanimous monarch of mighty arm having finished\nthis period, the divine Bruhma, the lord of creatures, the supreme\ngovernor, was highly pleased; and with the gods, going near to the\ngreat Bhugee-rutha, employed in sacred austerities, said to him, I am\npropitious. O performer of sacred vows! ask a blessing. The mighty,\n{224} the illustrious Bhugee-rutha, with hands respectfully joined,\nreplied to the sire of all, O divine one! if thou art pleased with me,\nif the fruit of my austerities may be granted, let all the sons of\nSugura obtain water for their funeral rites. The ashes of the great\nones being wetted by the water of Gunga, let all my ancestors ascend\nto the eternal heaven.[15] Let a child, O divine one! be granted to\nus, that our family become not extinct. O God! let this great blessing\nbe granted to the family of Ikshwakoo. The venerable sire of all\nreplied to the king thus requesting in the sweetest and most pleasing\naccents: Bhugee-rutha, thou mighty charioteer, be this great wish of\nthine heart accomplished. Let prosperity attend thee, thou increaser\nof the family of Ikshwakoo! Engage Hura, O king! to receive (in her\ndescent) Gunga, the eldest daughter of the mountain Himuvut. The\nearth, O king! cannot sustain the descent of Gunga, nor beside\nShoolee[16] do I behold any one, O king! able to receive her. The\ncreator having thus replied to the king, and spoken to Gunga, returned\nto heaven with Macroots and all the gods.\"\n\nThus far the thirty-fourth Section, describing the gift of the\nblessing to Bhugee-rutha.\n\n{225}\n\n  SECTION THIRTY-FIVE.\n\n\"Pruja-puti being gone, Bhugee-rutha, O Rama! with uplifted arm,\nwithout support, without a helper, immoveable as a dry tree, and\nfeeding on air, remained day and night on the tip of his great toe\nupon the afflicted earth. A full year having now elapsed, the husband\nof Ooma, and the lord of animals, who is reverenced by all worlds,\nsaid to the king, I am propitious to thee, O chief of men! I will\naccomplish thy utmost desire. To him the sovereign replied, O Hura,\nreceive Gunga! Bhurga,[17] thus addressed, replied, I will perform\nthy desire; I will receive her on my head, the daughter of the\nmountain. Muheshwura then, mounting on the summit of Himuvut,\naddressed Gunga, the river flowing in the ether, saying, Descend, O\nGunga! The eldest daughter of Himuvut, adored by the universe, having\nheard the words of the lord of Ooma, was filled with anger, and\nassuming, O Rama! a form of amazing size, with insupportable celerity,\nfell from the air upon the auspicious head of Shiva. The goddess\nGunga, irresistible, thought within herself, I will bear down Shunkura\nwith my stream, and enter Patala. The {226} divine Hura, the\nthree-eyed god, was aware of her proud resolution, and, being angry,\ndetermined to prevent her design. The purifier, fallen upon the sacred\nhead of Roodra, was detained, O Rama! in the recesses of the orb of\nhis Juta, resembling Himuvut, and was unable, by the greatest efforts,\nto descend to the earth. From the borders of the orb of his Juta, the\ngoddess could not obtain regress, but wandered there for many series\nof years. Thus situated, Bhugee-rutha beheld her wandering there, and\nagain engaged in severe austerities.\n\n\"With these austerities, O son of Rughoo! Hura being greatly pleased,\ndischarged Gunga towards the lake Vindoo. In her flowing forth seven\nstreams were produced. Three of these streams[18] beautiful, filled\nwith water conveying happiness, Hladinee,[19] Pavunee,[20] and\nNulinee,[21] directed their course eastward: while\nSoochukohoo,[22] Seeta,[23] and Sindhoo,[24] three pellucid\nmighty rivers, flowed to the west. The seventh of these streams\nfollowed king Bhugee-rutha. The royal sage, the illustrious {227}\nBhugee-rutha, seated on a resplendent car, led the way, while Gunga\nfollowed. Pouring down from the sky upon the head of Shunkura, and\nafterwards upon the earth, her streams rolled along with a shrill\nsound. The earth was willingly chosen by the fallen fishes, the\nturtles, the porpoises, and the birds. The royal sages, the\nGundhurvas, the Yukshas, and the Siddhas, beheld her falling from the\nether to the earth; yea, the gods, immeasurable in power, filled with\nsurprise, came thither with chariots resembling a city, horses, and\nelephants, and litters, desirous of seeing the wonderful and\nunparalleled descent of Gunga into the world. Irradiated by the\ndescending gods, and the splendour of their ornaments, the cloudless\natmosphere shone with the splendour of an hundred suns, while by the\nuneasy porpoises, the serpents, and the fishes, the air was coruscated\nas with lightning. Through the white foam of the waters, spreading in\na thousand directions, and the flights of water-fowl, the atmosphere\nappeared filled with autumnal clouds. The water, pure from defilement,\nfalling from the head of Shunkura, and thence to the earth, ran in\nsome places with a rapid stream, in others in a tortuous current; here\nwidely spreading, there descending into caverns, and again spouting\nupward; in some places it moved slowly, stream uniting with stream;\nwhile repelled {228} in others, it rose upwards, and again fell to the\nearth. Knowing its purity, the sages, the Gundhurvas, and the\ninhabitants of the earth, touched the water fallen from the body of\nBhuva.[25] Those who, through a curse, had fallen from heaven to\nearth, having performed ablution in this stream, became free from sin:\ncleansed from sin by this water, and restored to happiness, they\nentered the sky, and returned again to heaven. By this illustrious\nstream was the world rejoiced, and by performing ablution in Gunga,\nbecame free from impurity.\n\n\"The royal sage, Bhugee-rutha, full of energy, went before, seated on\nhis resplendent car, while Gunga followed after. The gods, O Rama!\nwith the sages, the Dityas, the Danuvas, the Rakshuses, the chief\nGundhurvas, and Yukshas, with the Kinnuras, the chief serpents, and\nall the Upsuras, together with aquatic animals, following the chariot\nof Bhugee-rutha, attended Gunga. Whither king Bhugee-rutha went,\nthither went the renowned Gunga, the chief of streams, the destroyer\nof all sin.\n\n\"After this, Gunga, in her course, inundated this sacrificial ground\nof the great Juhnoo of astonishing deeds, {229} who was then offering\nsacrifice. Juhnoo, O Raghuva! perceiving her pride enraged, drank up\nthe whole of the water of Gunga:--a most astonishing deed! At this the\ngods, the Gundhurvas, and the sages, exceedingly surprised, adored the\ngreat Juhnoo, the most excellent of men, and named Gunga the daughter\nof this great sage.\n\n\"The illustrious chief of men, pleased, discharged Gunga from his\nears. Having liberated her, he, recognizing the great Bhugee-rutha,\nthe chief of kings, then present, duly, honoured him, and returned to\nthe place of sacrifice. From this deed Gunga, the daughter of Jahnoo,\nobtained the name Jahnuvee.\n\n\"Gunga now went forward again, following the chariot of Bhugee-rutha.\nHaving reached the sea, the chief of streams proceeded to Patala, to\naccomplish the work of Bhugee-rutha. The wise and royal sage, having\nwith great labour conducted Gunga thither, there beheld his ancestors\nreduced to ashes. Then, O chief of Rughoo's race, that heap of ashes,\nbathed by the excellent waters of Gunga, and purified from sin, the\nsons of the king obtained heaven. Having arrived at the sea, the king,\nfollowed by Gunga, entered the subterraneous regions, where lay the\nsacred ashes. After these, O Rama! had been laved by the water of\nGunga, Bruhma, the lord of all, thus addressed the king: O chief of\nmen! thy predecessors, {230} the sixty thousand sons of the great\nSugura, are all delivered by thee: and the great and perennial\nreceptacle of water, called by Sugura's name, shall henceforth be\nuniversally known by the appellation of Sagura.[26] As long, O\nking! as the waters of the sea continue in the earth, so long shall\nthe sons of Sugura remain in heaven, in all the splendour of gods.\n\n\"This Gunga, O king! shall be thy eldest daughter, known throughout\nthe three worlds (by the name) Bhagee-ruthee; and because she passed\nthrough the earth, the chief of rivers shall be called Gunga[27]\nthroughout the universe. (She shall also be) called Triputhaga, on\naccount of her proceeding forward in three different directions,\nwatering the three worlds. Thus is she named by the gods and sages.\nShe is called Gunga, O sovereign of the Vashyas! on account of her\nflowing through Gang;[28] and her third name, O thou observer of\nvows! is Bhagee-ruthee. O, accomplished one! through affection to\nthee, and regard to me, these names will remain: as long as Gunga, the\ngreat river, shall remain in the world, so long shall thy deathless\nfame live throughout {231} the universe. O lord of men! O king!\nperform here the funeral rites of all thine ancestors. Relinquish thy\nvows,[29] O king! this devout wish of theirs was not obtained by\nthine ancestors highly renowned, chief among the pious; not by\nUngshooman, unparalleled in the universe, so earnestly desiring the\ndescent of Gunga, O beloved one! was this object of desire obtained.\nNor, O possessor of prosperity! O sinless one! could she be (obtained)\nby thine illustrious father Dwileepa, the Rajurshi eminently\naccomplished, whose energy was equal to that of a Muhurshi, and who,\nestablished in all the virtues of the Kshutras, in secret austerities\nequalled myself. This great design has been fully accomplished by\nthee, O chief of men! Thy fame, the blessing so much desired, will\nspread throughout the world. O subduer of enemies! this descent of\nGunga has been effected by thee. This Gunga is the great abode of\nvirtue: by this deed thou art become possessed of the divinity itself.\nIn this stream constantly bathe thyself, O chief of men! Purified, O\nmost excellent of mortals! be a partaker of the fruit of holiness;\nperform the funeral ceremonies of all thy ancestors. May blessings\nattend thee, O chief of men! I return to heaven.\n\n{232}\n\n\"The renowned one, the sovereign of the gods, the sire of the\nuniverse, having thus spoken, returned to heaven.\n\n\"King Bhugee-rutha, the royal sage, having performed the funeral\nceremonies of the descendants of Sugura, in proper order of\nsuccession, according to the ordinance; the renowned one having also,\nO chief of men! performed the customary ceremonies, and purified\nhimself, returned to his own city, where he governed the kingdom.\nHaving (again,) O Raghura! possessed of abundant wealth, obtained\ntheir king, his people rejoiced; their sorrow was completely removed;\nthey increased in wealth and prosperity, and were freed from disease.\n\n\"Thus, O Rama! has the story of Gunga been related at large by me. May\nprosperity attend thee: May every good be thine. The evening is fast\nreceding. He who causes this relation, securing wealth, fame,\nlongevity, posterity, and heaven, to be heard among the Brahmans, the\nKshutriyas, or the other tribes of men, his ancestors rejoice, and to\nhim are the gods propitious: and he who hears this admirable story of\nthe descent of Gunga, ensuring long life, shall obtain, O Kakootstha!\nall the wishes of his heart. All his sins shall be destroyed, and his\nlife and fame be abundantly prolonged.\"\n\n{233}\n\nEnd of the thirty-fifth Section, describing the descent of Gunga.\n\n\n  _Parvati._--X. p. 94.\n\nAll the Devetas, and other inhabitants of the celestial regions, being\ncollected, at the summons of Bhagavat, to arrange the ceremonials of\nthe marriage of Seeva and Parvati, first came Brahma, mounted on his\ngoose, with the Reyshees at his stirrup; next Veeshnu, riding on\nGaroor his eagle, with the chank, the chakra, the club, and the pedive\nin his hands; Eendra also, and Yama, and Cuvera, and Varuna, and the\nrivers Ganga and Jumna, and the Seven Seas. The Gandarvas also, and\nApsaras, and Vasookee, and other serpents, in obedience to the\ncommands of Seeva, all dressed in superb chains and habits of\nceremony, were to be seen in order amidst the crowded and glittering\ncavalcade.\n\nAnd now, Seeva, after the arrival of all the Devetas, and the\ncompletion of the preparations for the procession, set out, in the\nutmost pomp and splendour, from the mountain Kilas. His third eye\nflamed like the sun, and the crescent on his forehead assumed the form\nof a radiated diadem; his snakes were exchanged for chains and\nnecklaces of pearls and rubies, his ashes for sandal and perfume, and\nhis elephant's skin for a silken robe, {234} so that none of the\nDevetas in brilliance came near his figure. The bridal attendants now\nspread wide abroad the carpet of congratulation, and arranged in order\nthe banquet of bliss. Nature herself assumed the appearance of\nrenovated youth, and the sorrowing universe recalled its\nlong-forgotten happiness. The Gandarvas and Apsaras began their\nmelodious songs, and the Genes and Keeners displayed the magic of\ntheir various musical instruments. The earth and its inhabitants\nexulted with tongues of glorification and triumph; fresh moisture\ninvigorated the withered victims of time; a thousand happy and\nanimating conceptions inspired the hearts of the intelligent, and\nenlightened the wisdom of the thoughtful: The kingdom of external\nforms obtained gladness, the world of intellect acquired brightness.\nThe dwellers upon earth stocked the casket of their ideas with the\njewels of delight, and reverend pilgrims exchanged their beads for\npearls. The joy of those on earth ascended up to Heaven, and the Tree\nof the bliss of those in Heaven extended its auspicious branches\ndownwards to the earth. The eyes of the Devetas flamed like torches on\nbeholding these scenes of rapture, and the hearts of the just kindled\nlike touchwood on hearing these ravishing symphonies. Thus Seeva set\noff like a garden in full blow, and Paradise was eclipsed by his\nmotion.--MAURICE, _from the Seeva-Pooraun_.\n\n{235}\n\n  _Thereat the heart of the Universe stood still._--X. p. 94.\n\nAfter these lines were written, I was amused at finding a parallel\npassage in a sermon:\n\n_Quando o Sol parou \u00e0s vozes de Josu\u00e8, aconteceram no mundo todas\naquellas consequencias, que parando o movimento celeste, consideram os\nFilosofos. As plantas por todo aquelle tempo nam creceram; as\ncalidades dos elementos, e dos mixtos, nam se alteraram; a gera\u00e7am e\ncorrup\u00e7am com que se conserva o mundo, cessou; as artes e os\nexercicios de hum e outro Emisferio estiveram suspensos; os Antipodas\nnam trabalhavam, porque lhes faltava a luz, os de cima can\u00e7ados de\ntam comprido dia deixavam o trabalho; estes pasmados de verem o Sol\nque se nam movia; aquelles tambem pasmados de esperarem pelo Sol, que\nnam chegava; cuidavam que se acab\u00e0ra para elles a luz; imaginavam que\nse acabava o mundo: tudo era lagrimas, tudo assombros, tudo horrores,\ntudo confusoens_.--VIEYRA, Sermoens, _tom. ix. p._ 505.\n\n\n  _Surya._--X. p. 105.\n\n_Surya_, the Sun. The poets and painters describe his car as drawn by\nseven green horses, preceded by _Arun_, or the Dawn, who acts as his\ncharioteer, and followed by thousands of genii, worshipping him, and\nmodulating his {236} praises. Surya is believed to have descended\nfrequently from his car in a human shape, and to have left a race on\nearth, who are equally renowned in the Indian stories with the\nHeliadai of Greece. It is very singular that his two sons, called\n_Aswinau_, or _Aswinicumarau_, in the Dual, should be considered as\ntwin brothers, and painted like Castor and Pollux; but they have each\nthe character of \u00c6sculapius among the gods, and are believed to have\nbeen born of a nymph, who, in the form of a mare, was impregnated with\nsun-beams.--Sir W. JONES.\n\nThat sun, O daughter of Ganga! than which nothing is higher, to which\nnothing is equal, enlightens the summit of the sky--with the sky\nenlightens the earth--with the earth enlightens the lower\nworlds;--enlightens the higher worlds, enlightens other worlds;--it\nenlightens the breast,--enlightens all besides the breast.--Sir W.\nJONES, _from the Veda_.\n\n\n  _Forgetful of his Dragon foe._--X. p. 105.\n\n_Ra'hu_ was the son of _Cas'yapa_ and _Dity_, according to some\nauthorities; but others represent _Sinhica'_ (perhaps the sphinx) as\nhis natural mother. He had four arms; his lower parts ended in a tail\nlike that of a dragon; and his aspect was grim and gloomy, like the\n_darkness_ of the chaos, whence he had also the name of _Tamas_. He\nwas {237} the adviser of all mischief among the _Daityas_, who had a\nregard for him: but among the _De'vatas_ it was his chief delight to\nsow dissension; and when the gods had produced the _amrit_, by\nchurning the ocean, he disguised himself like one of them, and\nreceived a portion of it; but the Sun and Moon having discovered his\nfraud, _Vishnu_ severed his head and two of his arms from the rest of\nhis monstrous body. That part of the nectareous fluid which he had\ntime to swallow secured his immortality: his trunk and dragon-like\ntail fell on the mountain of _Malaya_, where _Mini_, a _Brahman_,\ncarefully preserved them by the name of _Ce'tu_; and, as if a complete\nbody had been formed from them, like a dismembered _polype_, he is\neven said to have adopted _Ce'tu_ as his own child. The head, with two\narms, fell on the sands of _Barbara_, where _Pi't'he'na's_ was then\nwalking with _Sinhica'_, by some called his wife: They carried the\n_Daitya_ to their palace, and adopted him as their son; whence he\nacquired the name of _Paite'he'nasi_. This extravagant fable is, no\ndoubt, astronomical; _Ra'hu_ and _Ce'tu_ being clearly the _nodes_, or\nwhat astrologers call the _head_ and _tail_ of the dragon. It is\nadded, that they appeased _Vishnu_, and obtained re-admission to the\nfirmament, but were no longer visible from the earth, their\nenlightened sides being turned from it; that _Ra'hu_ strives, during\neclipses, to wreak vengeance on the Sun {238} and Moon, who detected\nhim; and that _Ce'tu_ often appears as a comet, a whirlwind, a fiery\nmeteor, a water-spout, or a column of sand.--WILFORD. _Asiatic\nResearches_.\n\n\n  _Suras._--X. p. 105.\n\nThe word _Sura_ in Sanscrit signifies both wine and true wealth;\nhence, in the first _C'hand_ of the _Ramayan_ of VALMIC, it is\nexpressly said that the _Devetas_, having received the _Sura_,\nacquired the title of _Suras_, and the _Daityas_ that of _Asura_, from\nnot having received it. The _Veda_ is represented as that wine and\ntrue wealth.--PATERSON. _Asiat. Researches_.\n\n\n  _Camdeo._--X. p. 106.\n\n  Eternal CAMA! or doth SMARA bright,\n  Or proud ANANGA, give thee more delight?\n                     _Sir W. Jones_.\n\nHe was the son of MAYA, or the general _attracting_ power, and\nmarried to RETTY, or _Affection_, and his bosom friend is BESSENT,\nor _Spring_. He is represented a a beautiful youth, sometimes\nconversing with his mother and consort in the midst of his gardens and\ntemples; sometimes riding by moonlight on a parrot or lory, a attended\nby dancing girls or nymphs, the foremost {239} whom bears his colours,\nwhich are a _fish_ on a red ground. His favourite place of resort is a\nlarge tract of country round _Agra_, and principally the plains of\n_Matra_, where KRISHEN also, and the nine GOPIA, who are clearly\nthe _Apollo_ and _Muses_ of the Greeks, usually spend the night with\nmusic and dance. His bow of sugar-cane or flowers, with a string of\nbees, and his _five_ arrows, each pointed with an Indian blossom of a\nheating quality, are allegories equally new and beautiful.\n\nIt is possible that the words _Dipuc_ and _Cupid_, which have the same\nsignification, may have the same origin; since we know that the old\nHetrurians, from whom great part of the Roman language and religion\nwas derived, and whose system had a near affinity with that of the\nPersians and Indians, used to write their lines alternately forwards\nand backwards, as furrows are made by the ploughs.--Sir W. JONES.\n\nMahadeva and Parvati were playing with dice at the ancient game of\nChaturanga, when they disputed, and parted in wrath; the goddess\nretiring to the forest of Gauri, and the god repairing to Cushadwip.\nThey severally performed rigid acts of devotion to the Supreme Being;\nbut the fires which they kindled blazed so vehemently as to threaten a\ngeneral conflagration. The Devas, in great alarm, hastened to Brahma,\nwho led them {240} to Mahadeva, and supplicated him to recall his\nconsort; but the wrathful deity only answered, That she most come by\nher own free choice. They accordingly dispatched Gunga, the river\ngoddess, who prevailed on Parvati to return to him, on condition that\nhis love for her should be restored. The celestial mediators then\nemployed Cama-Deva, who wounded Mahadeva with one of his flowery\narrows; but the angry divinity reduced him to ashes with a flame from\nhis eye. Parvati soon after presented herself before him in the form\nof a Cirati, or daughter of a mountaineer, and seeing him enamoured of\nher, resumed her own shape. In the place where they were reconciled, a\ngrove sprang up, which was named Camavana; and the relenting god, in\nthe character of Cameswara, consoled the afflicted Reti, the widow of\nCama, by assuring her that she should rejoin her husband when he\nshould be born again in the form of Pradyumna, son of Crishna, and\nshould put Sambara to death. This favourable prediction was in due\ntime accomplished, and Pradyumna having sprung to life, he was\ninstantly seized by the demon Sambara, who placed him in a chest,\nwhich he threw into the ocean; but a large fish, which had swallowed\nthe chest, was caught, in a net, and carried to the palace of a\ntyrant, where the unfortunate Reti had been compelled to do menial\nservice. {241} It was her lot to open the fish, and seeing an infant\nin the chest, she nursed him in private, and educated him, till he had\nsufficient strength to destroy the malignant Sambara. He had before\nconsidered Reti as his mother; but the minds of them both being,\nirradiated, the prophecy of Mahadeva was remembered, and the God of\nLove was again united with the Goddess of Pleasure.--WILFORD.\n_Asiatic Researches_.\n\n\n  _Eating his very core of life away._--XI. p. 113.\n\nOne of the wonders of this country is the _Jiggerkhar_, (or\nliver-eater.) One of this class can steal away the liver of another by\nlooks and incantations. Other accounts say, that, by looking at a\nperson, he deprives him of his senses, and then steals from him\nsomething resembling the seed of a pomegranate, which he hides in the\ncalf of his leg. The _Jiggerkhar_ throws on the fire the grain before\ndescribed, which thereupon spreads to the size of a dish, and he\ndistributes it amongst his fellows, to be eaten; which ceremony\nconcludes the life of the fascinated person. A _Jiggerkhar_ is able to\ncommunicate his art to another, which he does by learning him the\nincantations, and by making him eat a bit of the liver-cake. If any\none cut open the calf of the magician's leg, extract the grain, and\ngive it to the afflicted person {242} to eat, he immediately recovers.\nThose _Jiggerkhars_ are mostly women. It is said, moreover, that they\ncan bring intelligence from a great distance in a short space of time;\nand if they are thrown into a river, with a stone tied to them, they\nnevertheless will not sink. In order to deprive any one of this wicked\npower, they brand his temples, and every joint in his body, cram his\neyes with salt, suspend him for forty days in a subterraneous cavern,\nand repeat over him certain incantations. In this state he is called\n_Detche-reh_. Although, after having undergone this discipline, he is\nnot able to destroy the liver of any one, yet he retains the power of\nbeing able to discover another _Jiggerkhar_, and is used for detecting\nthese disturbers of mankind. They can also cure many diseases, by\nadministering a potion, or by repeating an incantation. Many other\nmarvellous stories are told of these people.--AYEEN ACBERY.\n\nAn Arabian old woman, by name Meluk, was thrown in prison, on a charge\nof having bewitched, or, as they call it, eaten the heart of a young\nnative of Ormuz, who had lately, from being a Christian, turned\nMahommedan. The cause of offence was, that the young man, after\nkeeping company some time with one of her daughters, had forsaken her:\nHe himself, who was in a pitiable condition, and in danger of his\nlife, was one of her {243} accusers. This sort of witchcraft, which\nthe Indians call eating the heart, and which is what we call\nbewitching, as sorcerers do by their venomous and deadly looks, is not\na new thing, nor unheard of elsewhere; for many persons practised it\nformerly in Sclavonia, and the country of the Triballes, as we learn\nfrom Ortelius, who took the account from Pliny, who, upon the report\nof Isigones, testifies, that this species of enchantment was much in\nuse among these people, and many others whom he mentions, as it is at\npresent here, especially among the Arabians who inhabit the western\ncoast of the Persian gulph, where this art is common. The way in which\nthey do it is only by the eyes and the mouth, keeping the eyes fixed\nsteadily upon the person whose heart they design to eat, and\npronouncing, between their teeth, I know not what diabolical words, by\nvirtue of which, and by the operation of the devil, the person, how\nhale and strong soever, falls immediately into an unknown and\nincurable disease, which makes him appear phthysical, consumes him\nlittle by little, and at last destroys him. And this takes place\nfaster or slower as the heart is eaten, as they say; for these\nsorcerers can either eat the whole or a part only; that is, can\nconsume it entirely and at once, or bit by bit, as they please. The\nvulgar give it this name, because they believe that the devil, acting\nupon {244} the imagination of the witch when she mutters her wicked\nwords, represents invisibly to her the heart and entrails of the\npatient, taken out of his body, and makes her devour them. In which\nthese wretches find so delightful a task, that very often, to satisfy\ntheir appetite, without any impulse of resentment or enmity, they will\ndestroy innocent persons, and even their nearest relatives, as there\nis a report that our prisoner killed one of her own daughters in this\nmanner.\n\nThis was confirmed to me by a similar story, which I heard at Ispahan,\nfrom the mouth of P. Sebastian de Jesus, a Portugueze Augustinian, a\nman to be believed, and of singular virtue, who was prior of their\nconvent when I departed. He assured me, that, on one of the places\ndependent upon Portugal, on the confines of Arabia Felix, I know not\nwhether it was at Mascate or at Ormuz, an Arab having been taken up\nfor a similar crime, and convicted of it, for he confessed the fact,\nthe captain, or governor of the place, who was a Portugueze, that he\nmight better understand the truth of these black and devilish actions,\nof which there is no doubt in this country, made the sorcerer be\nbrought before him before he was led to his punishment, and asked him,\nIf he could eat the inside of a cucumber without opening it, as well\nas the heart of a man? The sorcerer said yes; and, in order to {245}\nprove it, a cucumber was brought: he looked at it, never touching it,\nsteadily for some time, with his usual enchantments, and then told the\ncaptain he had eaten the whole inside; and accordingly, when it was\nopened, nothing was found but the rind. This is not impossible; for\nthe devil, of whom they make use in these operations, having, in the\norder of nature, greater power than all inferior creatures, can, with\nGod's permission, produce these effects, and others more marvellous.\n\nThe same father told me, that one of these sorcerers, whether it was\nthe same or not I do not know, having been taken for a similar\noffence, was asked, If he could eat the heart of the Portuguese\ncaptain? and he replied no; for the Franks had a certain thing upon\nthe breast, which covered them like a cuirass, and was so\nimpenetrable, that it was proof against all his charms. This can be\nnothing else than the virtue of baptism, the armour of the faith, and\nthe privilege of the sons of the church, against which the gates of\nhell cannot prevail.\n\nTo return, however, to my first subject:--This witch of Combru made\nsome difficulty at first to confess her guilt; but seeing herself\npressed with threats of death, and being led, in fact, to the public\nsquare, where I saw her with the sick young man, she said, that though\nshe had not been the cause of his complaint, perhaps she could cure\n{246} it, if they would let her remain alone with him, in his house,\nwithout interruption; by which she tacitly confessed her witchcraft:\nFor it is held certain in these countries, that these wicked women can\nremove the malady which they have caused, if it be not come to the\nlast extremity. And of many remedies which they use to restore health\nto the sufferers, there is one very extraordinary, which is, that the\nwitch casts something out of her mouth, like the grain of a\npomegranate, which is believed to be a part of the heart that she had\neaten. The patient picks it up immediately, as part of his own\nintestines, and greedily swallows it; and by this means, as if his\nheart was replaced in his body, he recovers by degrees his health. I\ndare not assure you of these things as certainly true, not having\nmyself seen them, surpassing as they do the course of nature. If they\nare as is said, it can be only in appearance, by the illusions of the\ndevil; and if the afflicted recover actually their health, it is\nbecause the same devil ceases to torment them. Without dwelling longer\nupon these curious speculations,--the witch having given hopes that\nshe would cure the patient, the officers promised that she should\nreceive no injury, and they were both sent home; but an archer was set\nover her as a guard, that she might not escape.--PIETRO DELLA VALLE.\n\n{247}\n\n  _The Calis._--XI. p. 114.\n\nThe Calis and Pandaris are the protectresses of cities; each city has\nits own. They address prayers to these tutelary divinities, and build\ntemples to them, offering to them blood in sacrifice, and sometimes\nhuman victims. These objects of worship are not immortal, and they\ntake their name from the city over which they preside, or from the\nform in which they are represented. They are commonly framed of a\ngigantic stature, having several arms, and the head surrounded with\nflames; several fierce animals are also placed under their\nfeet.--SONNERAT.\n\n\n  _Sani, the dreadful God, who rides abroad_\n  _Upon the King of the Ravens._--XI. p. 114.\n\nMr. Moor has a curious remark upon this subject:\n\n\"Sani being among the astrologers of India, as well as with their\nsapient brethren of Europe, a planet of malignant aspects, the\nill-omened raven may be deemed a fit _Vahan_ for such a dreaded being.\nBut this is not, I think, a sufficient reason for the conspicuous\nintroduction of the raven into the mythological machinery of the Hindu\nsystem, so accurate, so connected, and so complete in all its parts;\nalthough the investigations that it hath hitherto undergone have not\nfully developed or reached such points {248} of perfection. Now let me\nask the reason, why, both in England and in India, the raven it so\nrare a bird? It breeds every year, like the crow, and is much longer\nlived; and while the latter bird abounds every where, to a degree\nbordering on nuisance, a pair of ravens, for they are seldom seen\nsingly or in trios, are scarcely found duplicated in any place.\nPerhaps, take England or India over, two pair of ravens will not be\nfound, on an average, in the extent of five hundred or a thousand\nacres. I know not, for I write where I have no access to books, if our\nnaturalists have sought the theory of this; or whether it may have\nfirst occurred to me, which it did while contemplating the character\nand attributes of Sani, that the raven destroys its young; and if this\nnotion be well founded, and on no other can I account for the rareness\nof the annual-breeding long-lived raven, we shall at once see the\npropriety of symbolizing it with Saturn, or Kronos, or Time, devouring\nor destroying his own offspring.--MOOR's _Hindu Pantheon_, p. 311.\n\n\n  _A thousand eyes were quench'd in endless night,_\n  _To form that magic globe._--XI. p. 117.\n\nA similar invention occurs in Dr. Beaumont's Psyche, one of the most\nextraordinary poems in our language. I am far from claiming any merit\nfor such inventions, which {249} no man can value more cheaply,--but\nsuch as it is, I am not beholden for it to this forgotten writer,\nwhose strange, long, but by no means uninteresting work I had never\nread till after two editions of Kehama were printed.\n\n  A stately mirror's all-enamell'd case\n   The second was; no crystal ever yet\n  Smil'd with such pureness: never ladies' glass\n   Its owner flattered with so smooth a cheat.\n  Nor could Narcissus' fount with such delight\n  Into his fair destruction him invite.\n\n  For He in that and self-love being drown'd,\n   Agenor from him pluck'd his doting eyes:\n  And, shuffled in her fragments, having found\n   Old Jezabels, he stole the dog's due prize.\n  Goliah's staring bacins too he got,\n  Which he with Pharaoh's all together put.\n\n  But not content with these, from Phaeton,\n   From Joab, Icarus, Nebuchadnezzar,\n  From Philip and his world-devouring son,\n   From Sylla, Cataline, Tully, Pompey, C\u00e6sar,\n  From Herod, Cleopatra, and Sejanus,\n  From Agrippina and Domitianus,\n\n{250}\n\n  And many surly stoics, theirs he pull'd;\n   Whose proudest humours having drained out,\n  He blended in a large and polish'd mould;\n   Which up he fill'd with what from Heaven he brought,\n  In extract of those looks of Lucifer,\n  In which against his God he breathed war.\n\n  Then to the North, that glassy kingdom, where\n   Establish'd frost and ice for ever reign,\n  He sped his course, and meeting Boreas there,\n   Pray'd him this liquid mixture to restrain.\n  When lo! as Boreas oped his mouth and blew\n  For his command, the slime all solid grew.\n\n  Thus was the mirror forged, and contain'd\n   The vigour of those self-admiring eyes\n  Agenor's witchcraft into it had strain'd;\n   A dangerous juncture of proud fallacies;\n  Whose fair looks so inamour'd him, that he\n  Thrice having kiss'd it, nam'd it Philanty.\n\n  Inchanted Psyche ravish'd was to see\n   The Glass herself upon herself reflect\n  With trebled majesty. The sun, when he\n   Is by Aurora's roseat fingers deckt,\n  {251}\n  Views not his repercussed self so fair\n  Upon the eastern main, as she did here.\n\n\n  _Be true unto yourselves._--XII. p. 127.\n\nThe passage in which Menu exhorts a witness to speak the truth is one\nof the few sublime ones in his Institutes. \"The soul itself is its own\nwitness; the soul itself is its own refuge; offend not thy conscious\nsoul, the supreme internal witness of men! . . The sinful have said in\ntheir hearts, none see us. Yes, the gods distinctly see them, and so\ndoes the spirit within their breasts . . The guardian deities of the\nfirmament, of the earth, of the waters, of the human heart, of the\nmoon, of the sun, and of fire, of punishment after death, of the\nwinds, of night, of both twilights, and of justice, perfectly know the\nstate of all spirits clothed with bodies. . . O friend to virtue! that\nsupreme Spirit, _which thou believest one and the same with thyself_,\nresides in thy bosom perpetually, and is an all-knowing inspector of\nthy goodness or of thy wickedness. If thou beest not at variance, by\nspeaking falsely, with Yama, the subduer of all, with Vaivaswata the\npunisher, with that great Divinity who dwells in thy breast,--go not\non a pilgrimage to the river Ganga, nor to the plains of Curu, for\nthou hast no need of expiation.--_Ch. viii. p._ 84, 85, 86, 91, 92.\n\n{252}\n\n  _The Aunnay Birds._--XII. p. 128.\n\nThe Aunnays act a considerable part in the history of the Nellah\nRajah, an amusing romance, for a translation of which we are indebted\nto Mr. Kindersley. They are milk-white, and remarkable for the\ngracefulness of their walk.\n\nEND OF VOLUME FIRST.\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES.\n\n[1] _Murresoo_, or _Mursoo_, in the Hala Canara, signifies _rude,\nuncivilized;--Wokul_, a _husbandman_.\n\n[2] Dignus vindice nodus.\n\n[3] In the Azanaga dialect of the Lybian tongue, Aseif signifies a river.\n\n[4] The Hindoos call a child _Bala_ till it attains the age of\nfifteen years old. From the sixteenth year to the fiftieth,\n_Youvuna_, or a state of youth, is supposed to continue.\nEach of these has several subdivisions; and in certain cases\nthe period admits of variation, as appears to have been the\ncase here.\n\n[5] The horse intended for the sacrifice.\n\n[6] The Indian spade, formed like a hoe, with a short handle.\n\n[7] An instrument said to be formed like an ox's yoke.\n\n[8] A dart, or spear.\n\n[9] A club, or crow.\n\n[10] A weapon, now unknown.\n\n[11] The eight Vusoos, the eleven Roodras, the twelve Adityas, and\nUshwinee and Koom\u00e6ra.\n\n[12] This seems to have been spoken by these youths in the warmth of their\nimagination.\n\n[13] The Hindoos say, that Kupila, or Vasoo-deva, is an incarnation of\nVishnoo, whom they describe as having been thus partially incarnate\ntwenty-four times.\n\n[14] One towards each of the cardinal points, and the sun over his head,\ntowards which he was constantly looking.\n\n[15] The heaven from which there can be no fall.\n\n[16] Shiva, from Shoola, the spear which he held.\n\n[17] Shiva.\n\n[18] Literally, three Gungas. Wherever a part of Gunga flows it is\ndignified with her name: Thus the Hindoos say, the Gunga of Pouyaga, &c.\n\n[19] The river of joy.\n\n[20] The purifier.\n\n[21] Abounding with water.\n\n[22] Beautiful eyed.\n\n[23] White.\n\n[24] Probably the Indus.\n\n[25] Shiva, the existant.\n\n[26] Sagura is one of the most common names for the sea which the Hindoos\nhave.\n\n[27] From the root _gum_, signifying motion.\n\n[28] The earth.\n\n[29] The end of thy vows is accomplished, therefore now relinquish thy\nvows of being an ascetic.\n\nEND OF FOOTNOTES.","title":"The Curse of Kehama, Volume 1 (of 2)","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":44281}